


Eroica

by Kelfin



Series: The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil [5]
Category: Fushigi Yuugi
Genre: F/M, offensive language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-26
Updated: 2008-06-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelfin/pseuds/Kelfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A symphony in four movements. To the memory of a great man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Movement 1: Allegro con brio

“Anyone who wishes to be heard publicly must consider his listeners well, especially those whom it is most important that he please.”  
Johann Joachim Quantz, _Treatise on Flute Playing_ , 1752  
Chapter XVI “What a Flutist Must Observe If He Plays in Public Concerts”  
  
“... intelligent musicians will without my advice accommodate themselves to their listeners and to the amateurs, not only to earn more easily the respect befitting their skill, but also to ingratiate themselves.”  
Chapter XIV “Of the Manner of Playing the Adagio”

~*~

I have known for a long time that I am the only one who can save the world. There were supposed to be eight of us, but nobody else is even trying, and I'm the only one who cares. Kutou is on the path of destruction, and _something has to be done_.  
  
I don't know what kind of man I am. I have high ideals, and my reason tells me that they can't come true, but my heart just can't stop hoping... hoping for appalling, vengeful things. Someday the people who robbed us of everything will be punished, and then nobody will suffer again.  
  
Our journey hadn't been very long, but we hadn't been given horses or a map or anything--just sent off into the woods without any instructions on how to find them or what they looked like. Nakago hadn't even told me their names or their social status. I needn't have worried, though--they were almost too easy to find. They were so obvious--they didn't try to mask their chi or anything!--that we spent a few days hovering, making sure that it wasn't a trap.  
  
My clothes were torn up, I hadn't bathed--though I'd been in and out of several rainstorms--and I had what I feared were permanent soot smudges from the fire on my cheeks and elbows. (How does one get soot on one's elbows?, you ask. I don't know. ¬It gets everywhere.) I pretty much looked exactly as I was supposed to, but being forced to look that way as a result of tramping through the woods was not as satisfying as _deliberately looking that way_ , and I was irritated.  
  
I didn't matter to anyone but me, of course. I smiled and blinked and said nothing to the man with me. I didn't feel like talking to him, so we didn't talk. He just did whatever I, in as few words as possible, suggested. It was uncomfortable, being treated like the superior of someone so much older than I was, someone who'd spent so much time working on his skills.  
  
I wanted him to think--because I want _everyone_ to think--that I'm confident, poised, responsible, good... all the things I'm not, but wish I were. I want to please everyone, and so I just act the way I figure people want me to act.  
  
My companion did most of the watching. That made more sense, anyway. And though I was curious about them--Where did the swordsman gain such an authoritative air? Why was that beautiful girl's chi so _weird_?--it was better that I stay where I couldn't be seen. Mostly I stayed at a distance, careful to play a tune that would entwine with the miko's chi and be audible just to her. Her chi was abundant and boring.  
  
I got to know them a little, though. The swordsman seemed as though he were in charge; I sort of wistfully envied his grace. His chi was all coiled and carefully guarded, and I was envious of that, too. The beautiful girl did the heavy lifting and doted on the swordsman--she had lots of energy but was fairly relaxed. There was a very imposing, silent one that kept his chi even, and there was a loud one, dressed like a mountain bandit, with erratic chi. The miko was pretty, with lots of energy, but she seemed troublesome. She also seemed easily moved by other people's pain--which made it easier to decide who I wanted Chiriko to be.  
  
They were very unprotected, but I was too tired and disheartened to laugh at them.  
  
We chose an evening. Well, _I_ chose the evening. Then I slept during the day before it because I didn't want to think about what was going to happen. Usually I worry about plans, but... I just didn't want to think about it. I woke up in the early evening and went to my companion. I wanted to say something, but what was there to be said? I said nothing.  
  
I left him alone and perched in a tree not so far away, waiting until the lights in the little house had gone out. Then I played the same tune, calling for her, commanding her to come.  
  
She obeyed, of course, trotting outside the house like a baby animal that's all curiosity and no fear, and I commanded the bats to attack. The tune I played for them was nearly ¬silent, pitched very high, and shrouded in chi; although I knew intimately the sounds I brought forth, I couldn't hear them, so I doubt any other human ears could.  
  
It had taken me several nights to gather so many of the creatures. There must have been hundreds. I thought bats would be a good choice because they are night creatures that smell bad and have disgusting-looking wings, and also because, frankly, they terrify _me_.  
  
She screamed. She screamed _a lot_. I felt so sorry for her. I wondered if I would have screamed if I were in her place, but I decided that I wouldn't have been able to move or make any noise at all. I probably would have just covered my face and let them pass by as I let everything else pass by.  
  
My companion played his part well--it was convincing even to me. He was really good at a lot of things, it seemed, so it was too bad about him. I didn't want to know his name or anything about him, but I couldn't help noticing that he was extremely competent. I reminded myself to ask Suboshi to request that his family receive a commendation, but who knows what actually gets done at that palace? Most of the things we ask for don't happen.  
  
“Those fools,” my companion laughed when the swordsman and the outlaw rushed to rescue their priestess and were themselves attacked. “My spells can't be countered so easily.”  
  
He was telling the truth about that anyway--the spell withstood. The seishi who did not have the sword had used a huge burst of fire, which was impressive, but not enough to faze me.  
  
“Now go!” my ally cried, moving his arms as if to command the bats. “ _Feast_ on Suzaku no miko!”  
  
Moving closer, I began to play a different tune, and the awful voice silently whispered, _Rip apart_. The bats threw themselves against the trees until they all fell, dead, to the ground. It wasn't the first time I'd killed, and they aren't the biggest creatures I've killed, but I killed them, all the same, and only I am responsible for their deaths.  
  
It was more like watching a drama than like being in real life. I didn't feel anything. Suzaku no miko, still shrieking, pointed out the rather obvious situation to her seishi. My companion reacted with feigned horror. I drew closer to them, moving through the leaves toward them until I knew they could see me. My eyes were closed.  
  
When I opened them, I locked them onto the eyes of the man I was about to murder.  
  
“You... You bastard!!” he yelled angrily. It's possible that he really was angry.  
  
I squeezed my eyes shut, and I didn't stop. Chi poured out of me in such quantities that I was nearly exhausted, but I didn't dare give any less than everything I had. It takes a lot to convince bodies to stop living--nature makes them avoid self-destruction--and it was absolutely imperative that things go as planned. Nakago had said that they would be suspicious of me; I'd have to rescue them from someone to gain their trust.  
  
“Stop it!” The man sounded furious and afraid. Maybe he really _was_ furious and afraid. “My head is... ”  
  
 _Die_ , commanded the terrifying, nasty voice in my head. _Rip apart._  
  
I drew the flute away from my lips. The melody hadn't resolved, but there was no need for anything more. He laughed in victory and suddenly fell, dead, to the ground at Suzaku no miko's feet.  
  
Do you know what happens when all of the blood in your head starts boiling? It expands. First, it burns all of the soft things inside your body and oozes out through the holes in your head, such as your eyes and nose. If it expands very quickly, it creates enough pressure to burst through the seams of your skull. As you may imagine, this is very painful, and it will kill you.  
  
It also leaves the sort of mess that you wouldn't want to clean up, but if you don't clean it up, maggots grow in it and dogs eat it and it smells _awful_.  
  
I stood over the remains of the dead man, trying to gather my energy and regain some self-control. All I could do was look down at the girl, who was still panting in terror. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks were red, and her robe had been pulled a little to one side. This was the creature I needed to charm.  
  
“So you were the one playing the flute?” she asked.  
  
I held up the instrument and smiled a little. She probably wanted an explanation. “I used my flute to channel my energy into him, and it drove him insane. You’re safe now.”  
  
Then my eyes closed and I collapsed. I hadn’t meant to, really I hadn’t. Only I was so tired.  
  
The man with the sword caught me before I landed on top of Suzaku no miko. He was very gentle as he lowered me to the ground, and as I looked into his face, I realized for the first time that he was not very much older than I was. He was strong, though-- ¬stronger than I am, even though I’m strong and a very fast runner--he was the type that had been well fed since infancy, probably.  
  
Revolting. The only thing worse than a nobleman is a soldier. But this man was too pretty to be truly repulsive to me, which annoyed me a little. I shouldn’t allow my sentiments to be placated by personal appearances.  
  
The other seishi--the loud one, with red hair; the one who had wielded the fire--joined his companions. The three of them had their heads together, peering down at me.  
  
“Hey... Are you all right!?” The girl seemed very concerned.  
  
The one holding me smiled. “Bear up, man!!” he said bracingly.  
  
I sighed, half with exhaustion and half with anxiety. It was terrifying to be helpless in the arms of my enemy.  
  
I shifted a little, so that the torn clothing would reveal the tattoo. I hate that tattoo. It hurt so bad when they put that on--and let me tell you, “just above the hip” is not the toughest place on the body--and tramping through dirty woods and swamps made it take a while to heal. Besides, it’s not _mine_. And Suboshi doesn’t have one. He’d be pissed if he ever saw it. (When I got it done, I had to hide my chi from him so that it wouldn’t transfer onto his skin. He was worried when he couldn’t contact me, and then he got really mad.)  
  
“It’s... It’s... The seventh Suzaku seishi!!” cried the miko.  
  
I didn’t dare smile, but I could feel some of my fear drain out of my body. I just looked up at her instead. She really did have the sort of face that one could call pretty, and it was kind, anyway. She was probably too stupid to know that she was being used as a pawn.  
  
I prepared myself to lie to her.  
  
“My name is Chiriko,” I said, still a little breathless. Nakago had said he didn’t care what Chiriko was like. So I figured it would be easier to tell lies that were mostly true. “I’m fifteen years old. I lived in a village close to here. Until recently when the Kutou army destroyed it...”  
  
“Leaving you the town’s only survivor,” finished the gentle man sympathetically.  
  
You might think it was overdramatic and literary for him to say something like that, but it wasn’t: that’s just the way things are in Kutou and near its border. Chiriko wouldn’t ¬have been wandering around alone if he’d had anyone left, and the man was aware of this fact. _So he’s a nobleman who isn’t totally clueless_ , I thought. _How novel._  
  
“Well, yer safe now,” said the redhead. He looked at the miko. “Let’s take him back to Tamahome’s place.”  
  
She was so excited that she could practically speak. “We did it,” she managed to get out, clasping her hands together in joy. “We’ve gathered _all seven_ Suzaku seishi!”  
  
The two men, working at odds with each other, tried to pick me up.  
  
“No, I can walk... I’m okay.” Being carried places is humiliating.  
  
We managed to work things out so that I was walking on my own feet, supported by the bandit. The nobleman was apparently too noble to do things that the other man could take care of, so he simply walked beside us and said nothing. Suzaku no miko ran circles around us, hopping up and down with joy.  
  
Many people would have said that the Sou family’s little hut was crowded, but it wasn’t, not by reasonable standards anyway. It was _me_ that was wrong to think that there were too many people. It’s just that being around lots of people makes me tired, and they were all new, and I was exhausted already, and I had to spend even more energy than usual trying to watch what I say. It was so tiring.  
  
I was deposited on a bed--the _only_ bed, and I felt very uncomfortable. I’d deprived an old man of the only soft place he had to sit down.  
  
I sat up and squished myself as far over to one side as I could, so that someone could sit next to me. The miko saw this, climbed up, and crawled over to me, and then she put her arms around me and _squeezed_. I couldn’t really do anything but look at her with what I’m sure was an odd expression. She laughed.  
  
 _Oh, no_ , I thought. _I’m going to be molested and then suffocated._  
  
“I’m so glad we found you!!” she cooed. “We have to _introduce_ you to _everybody_!” And then she chattered for a long time while conveying very little information. Chiriko would already know the names of the constellations, and thus, I had already studied the names and positions of the constellations, so this was nothing new. I picked up who was who, and that Nuriko was actually a man even though he dressed like a girl (weird!!), but nothing particularly useful. This priestess-girl was too silly for words.  
  
She kept peppering me with questions. She wanted to know my favorite color (white), my favorite book (really, how many people have read enough books to have favorites?), and my favorite food (broccoli).  
  
“Ew,” said Nuriko and Tasuki in unison.  
  
Thankfully, I didn’t have to talk much, because everyone seemed to expect me to be traumatized, and besides, I don’t know when I would have gotten a word in among Nuriko and Tasuki and Miaka bickering. Chiriko, I decided, was going to be reserved. But the office of “silent type” seemed to be filled already. Plus, it didn’t seem very good for gathering information. Maybe I could be “adorably shy yet impetuously curious”?  
  
The first thing to do was to figure out the power strata. Everyone seemed to defer to Hotohori, but he was a lot less commandeering than Nakago, so I wasn’t sure at first whether he was really the one in charge. Everyone pandered to the miko, too, but in a way that seemed more like indulgent condescension than respect. I decided that Hotohori was the more important one to please, but it was clear that the best way to please him was to please Miaka.  
  
Miaka wanted to take my clothes off and mend them, but nobody seemed to think that she’d be able to do a proper job of it, and Hotohori reminded her that they still had a short journey left to the city and suggested that we have my clothes mended there, where there would be something else for me to wear. It wasn’t an act when I sent him a grateful look--I don’t know what I’d have done if someone somehow saw the symbol on my shoulder. Tasuki probably would have tried to kill me right there.  
  
I didn’t feel like saying very much, so I sort of half-closed my eyes and watched and listened. The little house was very busy and noisy, which was comforting. I’d seen Tamahome from a distance when I was still in Kutou, and he’d seemed much too grand for origins like this; it was comforting, somehow, to learn otherwise. The old man and his children smelled like earth and water, and they way they spoke about Tamahome was endearing. The youngest girl was especially charming. She fell asleep on Mitsukake’s knee.  
  
Even if I had to hate Miaka and the Suzaku seishi, I could allow myself to like these people, right? They reminded me of the way my family used to be. I suppose a better person than I would have been overcome by memories and wouldn’t have been able to hold back tears--but I’m cold, and life isn’t that dramatic. At least not usually.  
  
It did make me remember to scratch a couple of parallel lines on my arm, though, so that Suboshi would know that I had succeeded and that I was okay. That thoughtless little _idiot_ immediately wrote the symbol for “good luck” next to the lines, and I was so _pissed_ at him for a minute that I thought the neutral look on my face was going to shatter, but the symbol faded before anyone saw it, so it ended up being okay, and I forgave him.  
  
I suppose I was boring, because eventually Miaka lost interest in me and fell asleep. She started snoring _really_ loud, and Nuriko dragged her back into their room. I suddenly remembered that it was late, and they had all been sleeping.  
  
I slid off the bed and respectfully offered it back to Sou-san, but I wasn’t sure what to do with myself after that. There was a room where the other seishi had been sleeping, but Tasuki was sprawling all over the floor, and Hotohori was pacing back and forth in front of a window, staring moodily at the sky. I looked at Mitsukake and raised an eyebrow.  
  
He smiled wryly and indicated the floor next to him. I sat, hugging my knees to my chest.  
  
Neither of us said anything. There were only the sounds of snoring and heavy sighs. I don’t remember, but I think I must have fallen asleep on his shoulder. (I know, I shouldn’t be so forward, but I guess I’m used to affection, and anyway, it worked well to endear me to my new compatriots.)  
  
I woke up the next morning on the floor, huddled up as close to the wall as possible. Mitsukake’s blanket was draped over me.  
  
I went outside to where the body had been, intending to bury it or at least drag it away to someplace where kids and animals wouldn’t find it. It was gone, though, so I figured that Mitsukake had had the same thought I’d had. I was grateful to him--cleaning up corpses is one of the worst jobs, especially when it’s hot.  
  
It was very early, still gray outside. The only other person who was awake was the oldest boy, the one who looked so much like Tamahome. This was a fact I had observed myself the night before, but for obvious reasons hadn’t been able to voice, so it had been a relief when Miaka said it during the introductions. The boy’s name was Chuuei.  
  
He was by the fire, cooking fish. I went over and blinked at him.  
  
“Good morning, Chiriko-san!” he said. His voice was happy, but very quiet, so as not to wake anyone. “Are you hungry?”  
  
I smiled. “Not particularly,” I said truthfully. Thinking of food first thing in the morning always makes me feel sick. And I didn’t want to eat this family’s fish. The kid probably caught it himself.  
  
I figured he was about twelve or thirteen--old enough to be able take care of a family, but not quite old enough that it was fair that he had to. Thinking about it made me feel a strange sort of nostalgic-resigned-sad. When I was twelve, I was doing the same kinds of things.  
  
He wasn’t that much younger than I was. _It must be weird,_ I thought, _for him to look at me and know that I’m a seishi and wonder why he isn’t._ I personally would have been unbearably jealous.  
  
“Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked.  
  
“Nope,” he said, grinning. “But if you want a needle and thread, I put them over there for you.”  
  
I looked down and saw, in the daylight, how much worse I looked than everyone else. No wonder they felt sorry for me.  
  
“Thanks,” I said cheerfully. I plopped down on the floor and almost pulled my shirt off before I realized that wasn’t a good idea. Then I went and got the blanket and put it around myself and looked over the project. I’d done this a million times, so it would be fast work. The woods had been rough on me, though, so there were some places that were shredded so badly that they really needed to be patched.  
  
The needle and thread were over by the window. They sat upon a few pieces of fabric, almost the blue of my tunic.  
  
I studied the boy for a moment. “This isn’t for me, is it?”  
  
He nodded, barely looking up from the stove.  
  
I wasn’t sure what to say. Should I offer to pay him for it? “You didn’t...?”  
  
He shook his head and laughed a little. “It’s okay. It’s left over from something of Shunkei’s. I was going to throw it away.”  
  
Which was obviously a lie, but I knew what he meant, because I would have said the exact same thing.  
  
“Thanks.” I smiled at him, and he smiled back. I really like people sometimes.  
  
We didn’t really talk after that, since everyone else was still sleeping, and when they woke up, they made a lot of noise of their own. I didn’t mind fading into the background.  
  
Hotohori had talked a lot the night before about getting going early, but he, Miaka, and Nuriko didn’t even wake up until half the morning was gone, which was a miracle considering how loud Tasuki was being. It took them _forever_ to get ready to go, even though they had hardly anything with them.  
  
I was getting really annoyed, so I had to keep reminding myself that it was better for me if they were idiots. Still, it was _shameful_. They ought at least to have been formidable opponents. I was so embarrassed for them.  
  
I went outside and sat with Mitsukake. He, at least, was not an idiot, although he certainly should have done something to remedy this disgraceful situation. Why was there no sentry posted? Why would they let their miko sleep unguarded? If the Suzaku party’s wretchedly good luck went unaccounted for, a handful of well-trained assassins could have destroyed everything--especially considering that only one seishi had to be killed for there to be complete disaster. They had so much to lose, and they were blind to it.  
  
The worst part was that I couldn’t say anything about it because Chiriko, just as naive as the rest of them, would have had no idea that they were in any danger. I could only hope that Chichiri, whom I had not yet met (I had been told that he was working for the emperor in the capitol city), had a smidgen of practicality.  
  
Not that I cared if these people were safe, just that they were _shameful_ and _appalling_ , and, to put it bluntly, it was humiliating to be associated with them.  
  
When everyone was ready to go, Miaka staged a dramatic good-bye scene. It wasn’t enough simply to thank the host and leave. No. We had to all stand outside the hut, kiss each other, and cry.  
  
“Take care of yourselves!!” said Sou-san finally. “Thank you so much, Your Eminence. And to all of you!”  
  
He looked at Mitsukake when he said this. Mitsukake just nodded. I found out later that, before I had arrived, Sou-san had been ill, and Mitsukake had healed him.  
  
“I can’t believe we found all seven Suzaku seishi!” Nuriko was bouncing up and down and not following the conversation.  
  
“Yes,” said Hotohori. He was caressing the velvety part of his horse’s nose and not really listening. “This is splendid...”  
  
I wish I had a horse. It would be like a pet _and_ a comrade. I don’t know how to ride, though.  
  
The littlest girl was tugging at Miaka’s skirt and whining. “Please don’t go!!”  
  
“Yuiren...” Miaka hugged her, but even _she_ couldn’t say yes.  
  
“What are you doing, Yuiren!?” Chuuei hurried over and tried to pull his sister away. Their nominal parent looked on passively. “She’s the _miko_!”  
  
“But she’s Tamahome’s _wife_!” protested the little girl. I perked up-- _that_ was interesting information. “We should all be together!” she whined.  
  
She was probably the cutest thing I’d ever seen. (I love cute things.) My little brother used to do stuff like that.  
  
Chuuei was unmoved. “Let go of Her Eminence, Yuiren.”  
  
“No no no no!”  
  
She was nigh on hysterical. It’s so hard to be little and to want things so strongly, because you can’t do anything about it, and you’re not strong enough or wise enough to take disappointment quietly. Probably, there had been too much excitement, and she was tired.  
  
I wanted to help, and I wanted to show off a little--and I’m not sure which I wanted more--so I started to play. It was a sleepy song that I used to play a long time ago for my brother. It’s based on the Gong scale (which I think is the most peaceful) with an altered tone.  
  
“Chiriko?” Tasuki looked back over his shoulder at me as if I were insane. Mitsukake turned, too.  
  
I looked back at them curiously, still playing. What was _their_ problem?  
  
Yuiren’s eyes began to droop, and she went limp in Miaka’s arms.  
  
Miaka shrieked. “Yuiren... _Yuiren_!!”  
  
I stopped playing abruptly. “Wh--”  
  
Tasuki had already grabbed my shirt and was yelling in my face. “Are you makin’ her go _insane_!? There are better ways to keep a kid quiet!”  
  
I almost started laughing. It made sense now--they didn’t know I could do other things than hurt people. Before I could answer, though, Miaka said, “She’s asleep.”  
  
She sounded surprised. Everyone looked at me.  
  
“That was a tune of hypnosis,” I explained. “Even her dreams will be pleasant.”  
  
“I don’t get it.” Tasuki let go of my shirt.  
  
“I can do lots of things with my flute.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
I looked at Chuuei to see if he was okay. He grinned at me.  
  
Mitsukake picked up the little girl and took her back inside, and when he came out, we left.  
  
It was less than a day’s journey, even though most of us walked.  
  
The capitol of Konan was a very large city. It didn’t have a name, other than just Konan, which was weird to me, but then I think Konan is a smaller, more compact country than Kutou, with fewer ethnic groups in it, so maybe that’s why. We had to enter the city under the cover of nightfall--I wasn’t really sure why; I had a vague notion about crowds going crazy if they saw Miaka or something--so I didn’t really get to see much of it. I was disappointed, but I didn’t say anything about it.  
  
We were going to the palace. Chiriko would never have been in a palace before, so I pretended to be excited. It was easy, since I remembered how I felt when I was first brought to the palace in Kutou.  
  
Konan’s palace was more impressive, so it was _very_ easy. I was genuinely awed.  
  
 _It’s too bad_ , I thought, _that the most beautiful architecture on earth is invariably inhabited by the worst people._ And I wondered what kind of emperor we were dealing with here. Evidently, a supportive one, considering the welcome we received. The servants promised Hotohori that they’d give the horses the best care--although I think only Mitsukake really kept an eye on them to see that they _did_ \--and the state of the ¬apartments and the gardens we passed through made it clear that we were in the best part of the palace. We went directly to the throne room, in fact.  
  
“Welcome back, everybody no da!” squealed a manic blur of blue and purple. It attached itself to the nearest body. There was an explosion of Suzaku chi that stunned me for a minute. Obviously, this was the other seishi. His chi was powerful, but he seemed too cute to have much sense. So much for my hopes.  
  
“Chichiri!” Miaka squealed back.  
  
“What the hell is that!?” Tasuki looked repulsed. “Some kinda squirrel!?”  
  
“That’s Chichiri,” said Nuriko, putting a hand to his face in a girlish gesture of amusement. “A seishi just like you--who hasn’t changed a bit!”  
  
Mitsukake looked around.  
  
I hadn’t said anything for a while, so I gazed around with an air of awe and supplied, “Wow! I can’t believe I’m in a palace.” (Totally smooth, huh? Go ahead, roll your eyes.)  
  
Miaka looked at me sympathetically and squeezed my hand. Then she went back to shrieking and squealing with Nuriko about Chichiri and how long it had been since they’d seen him.  
  
“Where’d Hotohori go?” Mitsukake’s voice always sounded so different from everyone else’s--lower and calmer.  
  
“Yeah,” said Tasuki, jumping into the conversation with both feet. “You look up, and suddenly he’s gone!”  
  
“Don’t you guys get it _yet_!?” Nuriko was getting a bit snotty. “He’s...”  
  
“Please, Nuriko.” The smooth baritone that was Hotohori’s voice came from behind us. We all turned around to see him dressed in very expensive embroidered robes and adjusting his collar.  
  
“Your Majesty!” Chichiri bowed delightedly. I didn’t know a person could bow _delightedly_. “Your kingdom rejoices on the occasion of your safe return!!”  
  
The three of us who hadn’t been in on the secret were flabbergasted.  
  
“Chichiri,” said Hotohori smoothly. “We thank you for your service.”  
  
“Y-Your Majesty!?” Tasuki was _extra_ stunned.  
  
It made sense, upon reflection. There was really no other way that a man could be so young and so naturally authoritative. And he looked exactly as if he _fit_ here, in this palace--he was just as beautiful and carefully designed as the pillars and the statuary. Only... he was so much _younger_ than the emperor of Kutou! I never would have expected it.  
  
The emperor gestured gracefully toward a table with seven chairs. Was there going to be a conference? Apparently, we were going to discuss things together, as if we were a team or something. It was weird.  
  
None of us was really sure where to sit, so it was kind of awkward. At last, Mitsukake and I sort of looked at each other and decided to sit next to each other at the far end of the table. Hotohori, logically, took the seat at the head of the table, with Miaka on one side of him. Nuriko tried to sit on the other side of him, but Tasuki was closer. Chichiri sat across from me, so Nuriko ended up between him and Miaka and pouted.  
  
“You needn’t be so formal,” said Hotohori to Tasuki. He laughed. “We traveled together as fellow celestial warriors, did we not?”  
  
To be honest, this was probably not as reassuring as His Majesty meant it to be. It was actually just disconcerting. We were all thinking, _Oh, no, how many things have I said that I shouldn’t have? I didn’t do anything to annoy him, did I?_  
  
He continued. “First we must discuss methods of retrieving Tamahome.”  
  
Miaka, whose attention had been wandering, visibly perked up. I perked up, too. Maybe something was actually going to get done here.  
  
“Tamahome is not the only problem. Konan’s copy of _The Universe of the Four Gods_ is also in enemy hands. We have memorized many of the rituals surrounding the summoning of Suzaku. However, specific instructions can only be found in the book. It must be retrieved without risking war with Kutou.”  
  
Miaka jumped up from her seat. “ _I’ll_ go!! I’ll go to Kutou and get back _The Universe of the Four Gods_ and Tamahome both!!”  
  
I could tell that we all thought this was a ridiculous idea. I was glad I wasn’t the only one--it was somewhat reassuring to know that a ludicrous idea like this would be shot down immediately.  
  
His Majesty looked at her in shock. “Miaka, you mustn’t--!”  
  
“It was _my_ fault we lost _The Universe of the Four Gods_!” she protested.  
  
“Still...” It was obvious that the emperor didn’t know how to tell her “no”.  
  
“I’ll go with her no da,” offered Chichiri. “But we gotta coordinate it with Tamahome before we do anything no da!” He held up a warning finger.  
  
 _Does he always talk like this?_ I looked around surreptitiously to see if anyone else thought it was weird. No one else seemed to find it unusual.  
  
“Coordinate it with Tamahome?” It was obvious that Miaka had not thought very much about this. She sat back down.  
  
Chichiri went on to explain, in his more-or-less irritating way, how he’d contact Tamahome to set up a time for him to meet Miaka. Then he (Chichiri) and Miaka would travel, using some kind of magic, to the palace in Kutou and rescue Tamahome and the scroll.  
  
I wondered if I should sabotage this venture and risk discovery, or just let them do whatever they wanted and risk possible damages to my own side. Probably, the best thing to do would just be to keep quiet and report their plans to Nakago via Suboshi. I was actually pretty sure that Nakago would sense Chichiri’s spell himself--there’s no way something that powerful could worm its way into the palace without him noticing.  
  
Apparently, if I understood his plan correctly, Chichiri was some kind of sorcerer. It made sense--I’d been wondering about it, actually. The Suzaku seishi seemed to be heavily focused on physical skills at the expense of intellectual talents. They had two martial artists, someone who moved fast, a super-strong brawler, and a healer. The sorcerer made up for this a little.  
  
The Seiryuu seishi, on the other hand... Well, the thing is, the five of us that I know of can all attack from a distance. If there were ever a battle, the Suzaku seishi would be at a huge disadvantage because we’d pulverize them before they got close enough to kick or punch or stab us. They’d also be at a disadvantage strategically. Nakago and Tomo and Soi (and I, now that I think about it) are _not_ dumb. (Suboshi’s not dumb, either, but... he’s a kid.)  
  
The meeting was exhausting for me. There was a lot of arguing. His Majesty didn’t want to let Miaka go, but relented after she burst into tears. (Heh. Power dynamics are fun to watch.) I wanted to point out several things that they didn’t think of, but I was afraid to open my mouth. I was _so_ tired, and what if I said something wrong without realizing it?  
  
After the meeting, Chichiri stayed with His Majesty to discuss something important and Miaka and Nuriko showed the rest of us our rooms. We all were to stay in the same wing of the palace (except that His Majesty’s rooms, having been already established, were a little bit away), which I thought was very handy. Overall, the area seemed quite well organized, and I was pleased to see that whoever was in charge of the guard had thought to provide proper security. It was clear that His Majesty had the sense to appoint very good administrators.  
  
Our rooms opened off a wooden walkway that, although covered, was open to the air. It was situated in a garden with flowers and a little pond. I’m not very educated, but it seemed to me to be in excellent taste. Everything was very clean, anyway, which I _can_ say objectively.  
  
I was surprised to find that I had been assigned my own room.  
  
“Mm-hmm, it’s all for you, Chiriko!” Miaka beamed. “Hotohori said we could all have our own rooms! And they’re wonderful! The beds are really soft; look!” She flung herself on my bed with an enormous _floomph_. “And the door locks like this! And you can pull this thing and people will come and bring you food or anything you want! And you can store your clothes and things in here! I mean, once you _get_ clothes and things. And if you want to, you can come find me because I’m only”--she counted on her fingers--”three doors down. And Chichiri is on _this_ side of you and Tasuki is on the _other_ side.”  
  
I nodded. She was sort of overwhelming, and my resources were wearing thin. If I had to be around people for _five more seconds_ , I was going to cry or scream or blurt everything out.  
  
“Okay, I’m gonna go show Tasuki and Mitsukake their rooms now, so I’ll see you later!” She scampered out, dragging Tasuki by the hand. Mitsukake followed at a more dignified pace.  
  
I barred the door, sat cross-legged on the bed, and looked at things. The palace in Kutou was more ornate, but this was better lit, and even though it was summer (and we were very far south), it was reasonably cool. Also, it was very large--I certainly hadn’t been given my own room in Kutou--although it seemed like there were fewer servants and guards here.  
  
It was the first time I’d been alone in what seemed like _forever_ , even though it hadn’t been even a whole day since I joined them. But it’s hard work, pretending all the time. Being around people can be fun sometimes, but it always makes me tired, so it was nice ¬to have someplace where I could be myself, by myself. I had never, ever, ever, in my whole life, had my own room before.  
  
I _loved_ Hotohori!!  
  
But the best part of having my own room: I could talk to Suboshi whenever I wanted!  
  
Outside my window, there was this tree (I don’t know enough about trees to tell you what kind or anything), so I reached through the window and broke off a stick. It’s a lot easier to write with a stick than to use my fingernails, especially if I’m going to write a lot.  
  
I scraped the sharpest part across the skin of my inner arm: _Suboshi_. (Back when we both thought all of this was _cool_ , we decided we’d use our Seiryuu titles with each other instead of our real names. Any more, it kind of makes me want to throw up, but _he_ still likes it, so I haven’t told him how I feel.)  
  
We don’t have to write--we can just _think_ words at each other--but it takes more energy and concentration, especially when we’re far apart. It’s a lot easier when we can look into each other’s eyes.  
  
A second or two later, I felt scratching, and _Aniki?_ showed up under the symbol I’d drawn.  
  
My brother’s handwriting is huge.  
  
 _Small_ . I wrote a tiny character, circling it several times. There’s not very much room on our arms, and it takes a few minutes to fade, so we try not to use unnecessary characters.  
  
 _Sorry_ . The character was smaller this time.  
  
 _Alone?_ I wrote.  
  
He circled the word in agreement.  
  
 _Secret--safe. Good health._ _  
  
Duh, I would know if you weren’t--  
  
Space!! _  
  
He circled the “sorry” he’d written.  
  
 _Tell Nakago. Miko--dumb. Assignment--easy. Stupid plan to rescue Tamahome. Next report when?_ _  
  
Understood._  
  
We’d run out of room. I pulled up one leg of my pants and wrote _I miss you_ just above my knee.  
  
He circled it emphatically and wrote _love_ next to it. He was pressing too hard, which hurt.  
  
I think that love is a feeling that lifts up from inside you and comes out your eyes, and this time, all I could do was curl up in a ball and put one arm under my pillow. I rubbed my thumb over the character he’d written to ease the sting, and the red mark faded a little.  
  
 _Aniki! Don’t do that or I’ll start writing it all over you!!_ “Love” characters started appearing all over my arms. I started laughing so hard I couldn’t stop. I was glad I’d barred the door, because I must have sounded insane.  
  
When I could finally breathe again, I wrote _I love you--stop it._  
  
 _Victory!_ he wrote.  
  
I rolled up the other pant leg. _There are too many people here. They’re all boring. I can’t talk to any of them._  
  
 _There’s nothing to do without you_ , he answered. _Soi’s being a bitch. Come back NOW._  
  
 _I hope soon._ _  
  
Bring me presents when you come home. Ew!--Tomo--bye._  
  
I wonder if there are enough good moments in a person’s life to make up for the bad moments. I wonder if you can choose which good memory gets to pay for the horrible one that haunts you. Like maybe the day we were reunited could somehow erase the night that I pounded my fists on the ground over and over again until my blood stained the earth--the shooting stars that peppered the sky--screaming--rain--tears--the sounds of gunfire and the explosions in the next village. Do you have to pay for good things by suffering through an equal amount of bad things? Warm sunlight came through the window onto my bed, and I fell asleep.  
  
I woke up to a tentative knock on the door. The patterns of sunlight on my floor had changed, and I figured that it must have been late afternoon or early evening. I felt a lot better. Better enough to be around people, even.  
  
I glanced in the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair to get rid of that smashed, after-sleeping look, then opened the door. It was a servant. She bowed very low. “Forgive me for intruding, Chiriko-sama. His Majesty has requested that you join him for dinner.”  
  
This unnerved me.  
  
“Why?” I blurted out before I could think.  
  
She tilted her head to the side and smiled a little in a bewildered manner. “I have not been told.”  
  
“Oh.” Of course she wouldn’t have been told. I think I blushed a little.  
  
“If you would like to wait a few minutes, while I summon the others,” she said, “I will lead all of you there at once.”  
  
“That sounds fine,” I said hastily. I hope she thought I was just nervous because of the whole royalty thing.  
  
I closed the door and stood with my hands on my hips, surveying my room. I didn’t have any clothes to change into or any water to wash up. I suppose I was expected to bathe earlier, but not only had it not occurred to me, I didn’t know where the baths were. I messed with my hair a little and tried to rub the dirt off my cheeks and the tiredness out of my eyes.  
  
Mitsukake was already outside when I got there. He was leaning over the railing.  
  
“It’s nice here,” I said.  
  
He nodded. Apparently, he didn’t feel the same need to make conversation. So I figured that if he didn’t have to talk, I didn’t either.  
  
I decided that I liked him. It was nice to have someone else to sit with at dinner while everyone else was running around, pinching each other, and squealing like children. They were really cute, actually, and fun to watch, but I didn’t feel that I could join in, no matter how much Miaka tried to draw me out. I tried not to be shy, but every time I turned to someone to say something, I’d open my mouth and nothing would come out. ¬  
  
The conversations were moving too quickly for me to insert a comment, and even when people asked me questions, they’d get distracted before I could answer properly.  
  
Everything I said was greeted by, “oh, that’s so sweet,” and I began to be annoyed. I mean, I knew that it didn’t matter what these people thought of me, but I didn’t want them to think I was a _pansy_. I mean, I guess I did want them to think that (otherwise the plan wouldn’t work), but it still hurt my pride a little. It seems like, no matter where I go, everyone thinks I’m this cute little kid, even though I’m really a _ruthless killer_.  
  
So I was quiet. Mitsukake was also quiet, though, and he made a nice shield. I spent most of the evening hovering behind him, watching everyone else having fun, and feeling miserable.  
  
I listened carefully, though, to what was being said around me, and when I returned to my room, I gave Suboshi a much more detailed description of the planned rescue of Tamahome and Seiryuu no miko and the scroll. Then he went to report to Nakago, and I went to sleep.  
  
I didn’t have to get up early, because the plans were for later in the day, but I woke up at the usual time, anyway. I hate that. It seems like I can’t convince my body to sleep late even when I want to.  
  
The servants were up earlier, though, and someone had brought breakfast in while I was sleeping and set it on a low table. It was more food than anyone could possibly eat. There were new clothes set out for me, too--several sets of clothing. It was disgusting that there could be so much extra food and clothing in one place. I felt this way in the Kutou palace, too, but there, the luxuries weren’t offered to _me_ , so it wasn’t as personally revolting; I think the waste was more sickening when I was forced to take part in it. I hoped--I really hoped--that the clothing wouldn’t fit.  
  
Of course, it did fit--nearly perfectly, in fact--and it had been carefully styled to match the clothes I was used to wearing and was much more comfortable than my old clothes. I am ashamed to say that I began to be mollified a little, especially after I had eaten, and had a bath, and gotten distracted by some temple musicians I heard at the shrine. I eased my guilt somewhat by leaving a note with the leftover food explicitly stating that I was _not_ to be given more food than one person could reasonably consume.  
  
It’s amazing how quickly one can become used to giving orders. Making a face at myself, I rewrote the note using more humble language.  
  
After the evening meal, we all gathered to send Miaka off. She had her pack strapped to her back. It was stuffed completely full, which seemed a little unnecessary--how many snack breaks can you have on _one_ rescue mission?--but it wasn’t my place to say ¬anything, so I didn’t. She was twisting up her face, making theatrical poses for the sake of her own sense of drama.  
  
“Take the utmost care,” said His Majesty with visible anxiety.  
  
He was right to be concerned: she may be the dumbest thing ever to bounce across the earth, but that didn’t mean she deserved what was going to happen once Nakago got hold of her. I felt kind of bad about telling him.  
  
I hovered around their little tableau, trying to be perky and cheer up His Majesty. “Can’t we go with her?” _And then possibly end this charade so I could just stay there?_  
  
Mitsukake grunted in agreement.  
  
Chichiri shook his head. “We gotta keep the party small no da. Yesterday, when I connected her with Tamahome, I noticed there was a magic barrier attached to both him and his room. No matter how skilled you may be, there are those among the enemy who can detect your presence no da.”  
  
Yeah, like _any of them_. What was wrong with these people? Why didn’t they just learn to mask their chi? Or maybe... _read other people’s chi_?!  
  
Tasuki elbowed his way forward. “ _I’m goin’_!!” He emphasized this by slamming his fist down on a table.  
  
“Tasuki!?” Miaka looked as if she didn’t know whether to protest.  
  
He grinned. “Nobody would pick up on me!”  
  
I almost choked.  
  
“I been hearin’ all about this Tamahome guy,” he went on. “I figure it’s about time to meet him.”  
  
“Didn’t you hear what Chichiri just said?” said Miaka in a small voice.  
  
“I heard, but if I was goin’ along... _I’d fix you up with the most yummy, yummy dumplings you ever gobbled_!”  
  
At that point, I stopped listening. There was no point in paying attention to this sort of thing, so instead, I picked up Mitsukake’s cat and squished its face into exaggerated shapes. “You’re so cute, cute, cute,” I sang. “Meow, meow, meow.” I don’t think it was happy about this, but it very patiently allowed me to smoosh its fur around.  
  
Eventually, after a good deal of horseplay and whining, Miaka convinced Chichiri to let Tasuki come along. I returned the kitty to Chichiri’s shoulder, where it seemed to have found a permanent place. (I wonder if that bothered Mitsukake.)  
  
“We’ll go to the part of the castle where the barriers are at their weakest no da.” Chichiri spread his cloak on the floor and slammed his staff down onto it, opening a swirling portal into nothingness.  
  
We all peered into it--frightened, intrigued, worried--except Mitsukake, of course, who was impassive as usual. I’d never seen anything like that void-thing in my life. How useful! I wondered if it felt _strange_ in there. Could a person see or hear? How long did it take to get to the next place?  
  
Tasuki stepped in, followed by Miaka, who winked at us and waved. “I’ll see you guys later!”  
  
Chichiri disappeared with a “no da!” and his staff and cloak--and the cat--vanished with him.  
  
The four of us were left staring at the floor. It was weird.  
  
“They’re gone,” said His Majesty rather stupidly.  
  
“I hope they’ll be all right with just the three of them.” Nuriko tilted his head to the side thoughtfully.  
  
“We’ll stay here until they return.” His Majesty was quite firm. “That way we’ll be ready if anything happens.”  
  
It seemed awkward, standing around, so eventually I sat down on the floor and leaned my back against the wall. Mitsukake wandered over and sat next to me.  
  
“Do you think”--I felt like somebody ought to say something--”Do you think... I mean, what sort of danger are they in?”  
  
His Majesty looked at me sympathetically, and Mitsukake reached over and ruffled my hair. I looked up at him adoringly. (Affecting cuteness is fun!)  
  
“We don’t precisely know,” said His Majesty. “There’s an extremely powerful seishi named Nakago who also happens to be the shogun--so there will probably be soldiers to fight. But Chichiri _and_ Tamahome _and_ Tasuki should be able to handle him.” He grew thoughtful. “We would have heard about it if there were any other seishi there.”  
  
I think my eyes may have boggled. How was it possible for their intelligence to be so inferior to ours?  
  
Mistaking my expression for fear, Mitsukake nudged me with an elbow. “They’ll be all right. Nakago may be powerful, but he’s only one person.”  
  
I nodded. Now I was _really_ worried. I wondered what would have happened if I just hadn’t told Nakago about their rescue attempt. What would have been the harm in allowing them to be together for a few days before... I mean... even if they did save Tamahome the back-up plan would still have worked. Well... no. Thoughts like that were idiotic.  
  
It occurred to me that, if the mission _were_ a success, I wouldn’t have enough time to prepare for the summoning ceremony. I needed more time to weave my music into their ears. I vowed up and down on every deity I could think of that I’d start playing my flute _as much as possible_... just as soon as they got back.  
  
 _Then_ I started thinking about what might happen if the mission weren’t a success. What if Miaka, or even one of the Suzaku seishi, were killed? What if Miaka were... um... _attacked_ or something? (I wouldn’t trust that emperor near a girl her age for anything.) What would happen to me? Would they let me go home? Would I have to stay here? Would they find out about me? What if something happened when a fellow seishi died--like a flash or mark or something--and it didn’t happen to me, and everyone found out? Mitsukake and His Majesty would be so disappointed.  
  
We sat in silence for what seemed like forever. Sometimes one of us would stand up for a while and then sit down again.  
  
“They’re _late_!!” The annoyance finally burst out of Nuriko’s mouth. “Something’s wrong. It’s been two hours already.” He wrung his hands.  
  
His Majesty was pacing the room. “If Miaka’s gotten herself in trouble... Perhaps Chichiri and Tasuki’s protection wasn’t sufficient. This is distressing!!”  
  
His distress would have been comical if it weren’t so earnest. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him--he was so adorable. I know it’s really hard to sit around and wait while somebody you care about is in danger.  
  
Nuriko went to him. “Your Majesty...” But the emperor was too distracted to even notice.  
  
I closed my eyes and began to play.  
  
“Ow!” A sharp kick landed in my ribs. I opened my eyes to see Nuriko standing over me, enraged.  
  
“Chiriko! How can you be playing a flute at a time like this!?”  
  
I was indignant, but I tried to speak with dignity. “Please! I was merely trying to comfort His Majesty.”  
  
“What!?” Nuriko scowled. “That’s supposed to be _my_ job! Gimme that flute!”  
  
My jaw dropped. “It’s _mine_!”  
  
He grabbed it and pulled. I pulled back. He punched me in the stomach. I kicked him in the groin. He bit me. (He _bit_ me!!) I was so shocked I let go of the instrument, and he scrambled away, crowing in victory.  
  
“Your Majesty has many boyfriends,” Mitsukake said dryly.  
  
“His Majesty has a headache.” The emperor put a hand to his forehead tiredly. “Miaka...”  
  
Nuriko was making the most obnoxious noises I have ever heard come out of my instrument. He obviously hadn’t mastered the art of articulation and seemed to think that blowing harder was the only way to make a sound.  
  
I sat on the floor under a cloud of dejection and annoyance, and I pouted. Of course, _I_ do not pout as a rule, but _Chiriko_ pouted whenever he didn’t get his way. Chiriko could be cute and do all kinds of fun things that I cannot normally afford to do.  
  
Nuriko moved the instrument away from his lips for a few blessed seconds. “Your Majesty! Do you feel better now that you’ve heard my flute-playing?”  
  
“It’s _my_ flute,” I grumbled petulantly.  
  
Mitsukake sat down next to me and patted my head. I snuggled into his arm and sighed to exaggerate my misery.  
  
His Majesty sighed. “Nuriko, perhaps returning the flute to Chiriko is the wisest path. He suffers the onset of depression.” How kind of His Majesty to notice!  
  
“Pay _me_ no mind,” he continued with an air of abused longsuffering. “It’s simply that waiting is a difficult task for me. However, I do have faith in Miaka! I must trust her and wait until the moment she returns unharmed.”  
  
Nuriko put an enraptured hand to his face and did not return my flute. “Your Majesty... You’re so _noble_.”  
  
Suddenly, he let out the most alarming scream that I’m sure had ever echoed through the royal chambers.  
  
Mitsukake and I were at his side before we even realized what happened. We stared for a moment at the cat that hung suspended in the air right in front of Nuriko’s face.  
  
The absurdity of the situation was too much for me. How could I be angry with a man who was that strong, but screamed like a girl? “I heard a sound like the squeal of a terrified fag!” I blurted, then had a moment of maybe-I-shouldn’t-have-done-that and looked at him to see if that was an okay thing to say.  
  
“That would be me, thanks. Whaddaya expect!?” He grinned at me. I took that to mean we were friends, and I grinned back.  
  
“Mitsukake,” said the emperor gravely, “your cat is floating in mid-air.”  
  
Nuriko and I straightened our faces immediately.  
  
“Your Majesty!!” said the cat.  
  
“Whoa!” Nuriko shrieked. “It can _talk_!”  
  
Mitsukake made an angry fist. “And I never knew!!” He winked at me, and I snickered. He is so funny.  
  
“No,” said Hotohori. “That is Chichiri’s voice!”  
  
Nuriko made a bewildered sort of sound, which I echoed. It _was_ Chichiri’s voice, but it was coming from a floating cat. Who was supposed to be in Kutou. I think you can understand why we were confused.  
  
“I’m using the cat to get through the wards no da! You gotta find a way to break down the wards from over there!!”  
  
The four of us looked at each other. I had _known_ they wouldn’t be able to get through the wards, and I really, really, really wanted to say so, but I bit my tongue and tried to ¬look as confused as the other three did. It was surprising that Chichiri had been able to get the cat through--Nakago and Tomo together can make one heck of an intricate barrier.  
  
The only way to break through the wards from outside would be to send a huge flood of chi through an open portal--in other words, the one that had brought the cat. But I wasn’t supposed to know that, so I couldn’t say it. And besides, I was supposed to be hoping that their attempt was going to fail, because if one of them died, I was off the hook. Although I’d have to find a way to get back to Kutou without getting caught and exposed as a Seiryuu seishi, not to mention that the real Chiriko could show up at any time.  
  
“The flute...” Hotohori was staring at my instrument, which was lying where Nuriko had abandoned it. He walked over to it slowly and picked it up, considering something. Suddenly, he thrust it in my face. “Chiriko! Break the Seiryuu wards with your flute! You can do it!”  
  
I was rather taken back. “B-but...” _But I’ll be in so much trouble if I help you._  
  
Seiryuu has given me a lot, and I’m grateful, and I need to pay him back by doing my very best to protect Kutou. That’s what I’ve always done--I couldn’t even avenge my own parents because of it!--and that’s what he expects of me, or at least, that’s what I believe. But I’m not sure if, by betraying Nakago, I’m also betraying Seiryuu. Would my powers be taken from me if I did that?  
  
But Mitsukake put a reassuring hand on my left shoulder, and Nuriko stared up at me with pleading eyes, and I realized that I _liked_ these people. How could I say no to them? And after all, I knew the structure of these wards instinctively, so it wouldn’t be too hard to find their weak spots.  
  
If I’m doing my best for Kutou, I decided, then I can still pray to Seiryuu even if I do something Nakago and the others don’t like. I... I don’t love my god, but I’m obligated to him.  
  
I took hold of the instrument. “Very well,” I said earnestly. “I’ll try!! All of you, concentrate on the sound of this flute!”  
  
Concentrating their chi would multiply the power that I could send through the barrier. Also, it would make it less likely that they’d notice I wasn’t using Suzaku chi. (It was too much to hope that no one on the other end would notice.)  
  
I lifted the flute to my lips and watched as my three companions squeezed their eyes tightly shut. Hotohori and Nuriko put their hands together in a gesture of supplication that almost brought tears to my eyes: they really cared about this girl. I let my eyelids drift down and stopped thinking about everything except the music.


	2. Movement 2: Marcia funebre: Adagio assai

“If the flutist who wishes to be heard publicly is timorous, and as yet unaccustomed to playing in the presence of many people, he must try while playing to direct his attention only to the notes before him, never turning his eyes to those present, since this distracts his thoughts, and destroys his composure.”  
Chapter XVI “What a Flutist Must Observe If He Plays in Public Concerts”  
  
“For just as anyone who wishes to request something from a person to whom he owes particular respect will scarcely achieve his object with bold and impudent threats, so here you will scarcely engage, soften, and touch your listeners with a bold and bizarre manner of playing.”  
Chapter XIV “Of the Manner of Playing the Adagio”

~*~

Miaka was taken to bed almost immediately after they returned. It was very late, after all, and she looked pretty bad. Her arm had been broken, and she had ugly bruises all over her face and neck. Tasuki was also hurt--he had three broken ribs and a couple of broken limbs--but Mitsukake went to Miaka’s room first, as was right. It seemed that Tamahome had been the one to injure both of them, which Mitsukake attributed to a mind-controlling drug called kodoku.  
  
I’d seen kodoku used before, because Nakago never depends on things unless he’s tried them out first. There were lots of political prisoners in Kutou. Sometimes we used drugs like that in training exercises.  
  
So the big news, other than the injuries, was that Tamahome had refused to come back with them, that Seiryuu no miko refused to return, either, and that Miaka’s heart was broken because she thought it was her fault somehow. Also, she hadn’t managed to get Konan’s copy of _The Universe of the Four Gods_.  
  
Seiryuu no miko, I learned, was a close friend of Miaka, but had chosen her own seishi over her friend. (I had to hide my pride.)  
  
Miaka was so upset that she didn’t even greet us when she came back; she just clung to Chichiri and cried. Hotohori was distraught over Miaka, Nuriko was distraught over Hotohori, Chichiri was trying to discuss tactics with His Majesty, and Tasuki was in too much pain to think of anything else. So the only thanks I got for rescuing them (at great personal risk, I might add) was a clasp on the shoulder from Mitsukake.  
  
I’d rather hoped for Miaka to at least notice what I’d done--no luck, though. So, disappointed, I hovered around her bedside uncertainly. I didn’t want to be alone--I really didn’t want to have to report to Nakago about what just happened--and nobody seemed to want me anywhere else. Nobody told me what else to do.  
  
Mitsukake sat next to Miaka on her bed, the cat perched confidently on his shoulder. He was finishing wrapping the injured arm. “All right. This’ll cure you.”  
  
He held her arm steady in his right hand, and turned his left hand so that the palm faced down over it. There was a soft green glow as energy left him and worked on her. That was the first time I saw him use his power.  
  
I could tell he must be tired; the amount of chi it takes to heal would drain even a seishi. I don’t think he _had_ much more chi than that, so there was no way he’d be able to do it again for a while.  
  
Clueless little Miaka, however, apparently did not have my ability to read energy. She just smiled at him tiredly and said, “Thanks, Mitsukake! Now you have to heal Tasuki, too!”  
  
He became suddenly engrossed in the floor.  
  
After a moment of him not saying anything, her smile began to look confused. “Hm?”  
  
“Nothing. Just get some rest.” He stood abruptly and left, leaving me unsure whether to follow or stay.  
  
There was a pause, and when he didn’t turn to wait for me, I went to the miko. She looked so very unhappy that my heart melted. She must have had a rotten time of it--I’ve never been hurt by someone I loved, but I imagine it must be very painful. I didn’t know what to do for her. I didn’t know what would be best. I didn’t know her.  
  
I hesitated a second, then decided that I’d try cheerfulness. When Suboshi is sad, it usually works just to act happy until he snaps out of it. Smiling at her, I held up my flute and asked, “Can I play something for you?”  
  
I was expected to kill her, this girl with the big, sad eyes, this child who couldn’t even defend herself. I had to do it, because killing seven people is better than allowing thousands of other people to die. But she was so sad and sweet, and in that moment, I hated the world more intensely than I can ever describe. At least I could make her life a little less painful while I slowly led her to her death.  
  
“What... You, too?” She looked at me with eyes that were already dead, and I faltered. I’ve seen eyes like that too often. It happens to everybody eventually--the inevitable ¬pain that makes hope no longer worth having. I don’t know why I continue to cling to it when even people like her give up.  
  
Pressing bravely on, I said, “Go ahead; make any request!”  
  
She sighed and rattled off a string of words I’d never heard before. They must have been song titles, but they definitely weren’t from any language I knew. I ended up staring at her with what must have been an unnerving smile frozen in place while I tried to figure out what she had just said.  
  
“And those come from... what tribe?” I asked finally.  
  
She didn’t answer, just stared at the ceiling and cried without making any sounds. I played whatever came into my head first, mentally kicking myself for my stupidity in thinking that she and I would know any of the same songs.  
  
I think I have some kind of twisted perversion, with my penchant for adoring hurting things. It seemed like the longer I sat there with her, watching her suffer, the more I felt I liked her. She was so cute and so helpless that it more or less made up for how silly she’d been earlier. And... you know... there are worse things to be than silly. And she wasn’t acting silly now; she was just _sad_. I wanted to lie next to her and pull her into my arms the way I used to do with my brother when we were little and he was sick.  
  
There was a knock at the door. I stopped playing and turned around, and Miaka managed to work up enough energy to turn her face toward the sound.  
  
It was His Majesty, followed by Chichiri and Nuriko, so I leapt to my feet and started to bow.  
  
“Pay me no mind,” said Hotohori, smiling wearily. “Continue playing, Chiriko.”  
  
I moved away from the bed so I wouldn’t be in his way, trying to think of something I could play softly enough that it wouldn’t hinder conversation.  
  
“Hotohori, I’m sorry.” Miaka sounded exhausted. “We won’t be able to summon Suzaku...”  
  
“Do not worry about that now,” he said earnestly. “I am more concerned about you.”  
  
“Oh, Mitsukake healed my arm so--”  
  
“That is not what I meant.”  
  
Chichiri, Nuriko, and I looked at each other. Miaka saw this.  
  
“Wh-what’s the problem with you guys? I told you I’m _fine_!” She pasted a grin on her face. “There’s nothing we can do about Tamahome. I’m over it now!”  
  
“Miaka,” said His Majesty, “you don’t have to try so hard.”  
  
“But I’m _not_!!”  
  
(She was.)  
  
“How can you be fine?” asked His Majesty gently. “You and Tamahome were...”  
  
She almost screamed at him. “I told you I’m fine, so just _leave me alone_!”  
  
His Majesty looked as though he’d been slapped. I doubt anyone had spoken to him like that _ever_.  
  
It was very awkward for everyone else. I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see whether Nuriko looked as nervous as I felt, and he did.  
  
Miaka clapped her hand over her mouth. “I... I’m sorry...”  
  
His Majesty turned sharply and left the room without another word.  
  
“Hotohori!” Miaka obviously felt awful, but he never turned around. Nuriko and Chichiri bowed and followed him, Nuriko turning at the door to laugh nervously and quickly say, “Oh well, Miaka... We should get going... Sorry to bother a sick person!”  
  
I looked at her, trying to decide if I was supposed to go, too.  
  
She sighed. “I didn’t really mean that.”  
  
“I know,” I said.  
  
“Play some more for me?”  
  
Eventually, she cried herself to exhaustion and fell into sleep. I played for a while even after that, but I thought that people would probably find it creepy and inappropriate for me to be in her room watching her sleep, and honestly, I myself thought it questionable. But I didn’t want to make that report to Nakago.  
  
I made it to my room in much too short a time. It was very late--it had been after midnight when Miaka got back--and there was nobody in the halls, so there were no distractions. Equally unfortunately, I have a good head for directions, so I couldn’t get lost. The threatening rainclouds didn’t so much as sprinkle. I didn’t even stub my toe on anything.  
  
I slowly shut the door behind me and leaned against it, full of tiredness and dread, and then the sky opened up and the rain--naturally--began pouring down in heavy sheets.  
  
I sighed bitterly, and suddenly it occurred to me that I could just _not_ make the report. At least, not for a while, anyway. Nakago wouldn’t dare make Suboshi try to contact me, for fear I’d be with other people, so until I wrote to them, I was free!  
  
I felt moderately guilty about making my brother worry, but I reminded myself that I was too overwhelmed to handle the situation. When I get tired, it’s harder to stay poised and neutral, and if poise and neutrality are ever important, it’s when you’re talking to Nakago. But Suboshi would be anxious; I’d written to say goodnight to him every night since I left--except the one I spent at the Sous’ house, of course--and I was concerned for him.  
  
I curled up in my bed, tugging the pillow out from under my head and clutching it to my chest. I couldn’t help wishing there were another person to hold instead--I didn’t even care whom. It’s just that it’s nice to be touched.  
  
I think I’m too touchy. I’m sure it bothers people. And it probably makes me seem less manly and grown-up. But, if you love someone, how can you keep from touching him or her? Anyway, I was used to having someone to snuggle and cuddle with, and the most affection I’d gotten in the past few weeks was having my hair mussed by Mitsukake, so I was a little desperate. I’m pathetic. It’s pretty lame how far I was willing to go just to have someone mess up my hair.  
  
It was still pouring when I awoke. My stupid body woke up early even though I hadn’t gotten much sleep. The morning was cold and stone gray, and I was convicted; I felt, not energetic enough, but empty enough to face the inevitable.  
  
 _Suboshi_ , I scratched on my inner arm.  
  
 _Aniki! Are you okay?_ _  
  
__Yes. Sorry about the wait._ _  
  
__What took so long? Nakago made me sit up with him all night._  
  
If Nakago hadn’t been right there, Suboshi undoubtedly would have made some comment on the utter boredom he’d had to suffer while spending hours in the company of the crabbiest man on earth. As it was, the emotion was coming through clearly.  
  
 _Sorry_ , I wrote again.  
  
Suddenly there was a dull pain, and I saw bruises forming where someone had grabbed Suboshi’s wrist.  
 **  
****Amiboshi.** This was new handwriting. The writer pressed too hard and used a very sharp implement: it felt like an actual pen. I was pretty sure I knew who it must be.  
  
 _I’m here_ , I wrote in tiny, prim characters.  
  
 **You helped the Suzaku seishi escape last night.**  
  
 _I had to_ , I wrote hastily. _I couldn’t refuse to help when they asked me, or they would have suspected something._  
  
 **You saved your own life at the expense of our mission. Some would call that ignoble.**  
  
I flushed. _I’m sorry. I had to make a quick decision. I see now that it was the wrong one. It was a mistake--I won’t do it again._  
  
 **And you delayed making your report.**  
  
 _I haven’t been alone,_ I lied. _I’ve been attending Suzaku no miko. She’s injured and depressed. But I heard that you’ve vanquished Tamahome--do you want me to come home now?_  
  
 **Don’t be cheeky** , came the writing. **You know nothing of the situation. Stay where you are, and continue to act as Chiriko. I will take care of your mistake.**  
  
 _Thank you._ I despised him. _I won’t forget how kind you’ve been to us._  
  
I hate pandering to him, but I hate conflict even more. I think I’ll say anything just to avoid a fight.  
  
 **Try not to forget what will happen if you make another one.**  
  
I bit my lip nervously, unsure how to answer without sounding “cheeky”.  
  
There was a long pause (long enough for some conversation to be carried out on the other end), after which I felt a sharp blow to the side of my head where my brother had been struck. Then there was another throb of pain, and bruises formed on my other wrist. The writing continued on that arm, this time in larger characters that cut deeply into my skin.  
  
 **Remember for whom you fight.**  
  
I don’t know whether I was more stunned or disgusted.  
  
 _I understand_ , I wrote back quickly. Nobody answered, and I rubbed at the scratches on my arm, trying to make them go away faster. I couldn’t erase his last sentence, and the bruises on my wrists weren’t going to heal on their own for a few weeks. They’d be difficult to explain--I looked like I’d been tied up and jerked around or something. I could imagine what Nuriko would say if he saw them.  
  
 _Let’s talk as soon as you’re alone,_ I thought at Suboshi. Then I lifted my wrists, one at a time, to my mouth and breathed on them, forcing healing chi through them. It isn’t a very efficient method of energy manipulation, and I was tired afterwards, but I couldn’t afford to have unexplainable bruises like that.  
  
I sat against the door and listened to the rain for about ten minutes, until I felt my brother whispering in my mind. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate.  
  
 _Aniki?_ _  
  
__Are you all right?_ I asked. _Are the bruises on your wrists gone?_ Usually, if I healed mine, his would heal, too, but we were a long way apart.  
  
 _They’re better, but not all the way._ _  
  
__Does your head still hurt?_ _  
  
__No, I’m okay._  
  
I exhaled, relieved. _Good._ _  
  
__Aniki, what happened? Why did you help them? Nakago was really mad._  
  
How could I answer that without making him worry more? _I didn’t know what else to do. I thought it was better not to blow my cover. I’m sorry._ _  
  
__Don’t be. Nakago’s an asshole. He fucking hit me in the head with his knife!_ _  
  
__Why? Did you talk back to him?_ _  
  
__I’m not going to just let him say things like that about you!_  
  
I wondered what he’d said.  
  
 _But you’re okay, right?_ If my brother was bleeding or anything, I swear to Seiryuu I’d have gone straight to Kutou and sorted Nakago out myself.  
  
 _I said I’m fine._  
  
Something occurred to me. _Was he writing on you with a knife?!_ _  
  
__Aniki, I’m fine_ .  
  
That little liar! Nakago’s words were still etched in my right arm, and they ached. I can only imagine how they must have hurt Suboshi. Which, upon reflection, was probably Nakago’s point. “Remember for whom you fight.” I hate him.  
 _I have to go_ , my brother said. _Soi wants to work on battle maneuvers._  
  
I missed Soi. She’s nice. _Say hi to her for me._ _  
  
__I will._ _  
  
__And Tomo._  
  
There was a pause. _Aniki, you know Tomo hates you, right?_ _  
  
__Yeah. Say hi anyway._ Tomo hates everyone, so it’s not me personally. I like him, or at least I like the idea of liking him--he’s talented and interesting, and I think if he’d stop acting so irritable, he’d be popular. Well, maybe he’ll never be popular, but you know... People might like him more.  
  
 _You’re crazy_ , said Suboshi. _I’m not talking to him._ _  
  
__Okay, whatever. I love you._ _  
  
__I love you, too. Bye._  
  
It was still pouring.  
  
I dressed quickly and looked over the food that had been set out for me. I didn’t feel much like eating, but I forced myself to chew and swallow, because I needed the energy, and it’s wrong to waste food.  
  
Feeling unmotivated to go outside, I opened the windows so I could hear the rain and sat cross-legged on my bed, mulling over the situation. I was certain that I’d played enough for all of them individually except Chichiri, but I needed to play in his presence for a while to align my song to his chi. Also, it couldn’t hurt to do some work in strategic places nearby, preparing the area for my spell.  
  
All this was assuming that there would actually be a summoning ceremony--but I supposed it was possible that they could capture Tamahome and force him to participate against his will. Maybe Nakago was right to make me stay. I forgave him a little: it’s a waste of energy to stay angry very long, even with Nakago.  
  
There was a loud cry from somewhere down the hall. I poked my head out the door to investigate, just in time to see Nuriko running out of Tasuki’s room, dragging Chichiri behind him.  
  
“Did you feel that?” Nuriko asked, grabbing my wrist with his other hand.  
  
“Um... Yeah! Yes!” I had no idea what he was talking about, but there did seem to be a disturbance in the palace’s usual balance of energy.  
  
“We can’t find Miaka! She left a suicide note, but nobody can read it.”  
  
“How do you know it’s a suicide note if you can’t read it?” I asked, curious.  
  
“I just know!” insisted Nuriko, stamping his foot.  
  
“I can’t sense where she is no da! But I think it’s somewhere with water no da!”  
  
I nodded. “She and Hotohori are by the stream in the South Gardens. We should go there.”  
  
“You can read chi well enough to know where they are?” Chichiri looked impressed.  
  
I shrugged.  
  
“We have to go!” said Nuriko, tugging on us.  
  
I resisted. “Shouldn’t we get Tasuki and Mitsukake?”  
  
“Tasuki’s too badly hurt to leave his room no da!”  
  
“We don’t have time for this!” yelled Nuriko. He pulled hard enough to yank both of us forward. We stumbled, trying to keep up. It was dark, and the rain came down in sheets.  
  
The South Gardens were close, but by the time we got there, neither Miaka nor His Majesty could be seen.  
  
“Where are they?!” Nuriko was panicking.  
  
“They’re here,” I said firmly.  
  
“They’re underwater.” Chichiri looked as if he were going to be sick.  
  
Nuriko took a step forward and banged his foot against something. “Ow!”  
  
“What’s the matter no da?”  
  
I pointed. I didn’t know the word for it. It was that thing Hotohori wears in his hair.  
  
Nuriko gasped. “This is His Majesty’s...”  
  
As he spoke, a red light burst from the water. He turned his head sharply. “Th-That’s... Miaka... His Majesty!?”  
  
The red orb of chi rose from the roiling water. I knew at once what it was--I use them, and I’ve seen Nakago use them, too--but I’d never seen them used to push away matter that was already in place. It was a protective bubble of energy, and Hotohori was inside it, holding a very limp Miaka in his arms.  
  
“Incredible!” Nuriko was awe-struck. “His Majesty’s _will_ made the water recede!!”  
  
I stared, rainwater plipping off my hair into my eyes. His Majesty was so _noble_...!  
  
“Miaka!” Nuriko ran to them, reaching out to take her from Hotohori’s arms. I think he thought she was dead. They had been underwater for a long time.  
  
She wasn’t, though. I could feel her chi pulsing weakly, and I was glad and relieved, which I told myself was just my sympathetic nature.  
  
Chichiri went to aid Nuriko. “She’s all right. She’s alive no da!”  
  
Hotohori looked at Chichiri as if the man had just invented joy. Evidently, he also had thought she was dead. “She’s alive,” he breathed. “Thank the gods!”  
  
Softly nuzzling Miaka’s cheek once more, he handed her to Nuriko, who began fussing and muttering to himself like a worried grandmother. He hurried toward the emperor’s suite, which was closer than our rooms were, and we all followed, Hotohori looking as exhausted as if he’d run laps around the universe.  
  
By the time we got there, Nuriko had already managed to undress Miaka and put her into bed. He and I wanted to stay until she regained consciousness, but Chichiri pointed out that it might be a very long time, and His Majesty firmly ordered us all to leave.  
  
Chichiri looked as though he wanted to advise against Hotohori staying alone with her, but he shut his mouth and said nothing.  
  
We all trooped into Tasuki’s room to wait, instead, dripping water all over the floor. Tasuki was lying in bed, wrapped from head to foot in bandages, and Mitsukake stood next to him, glowering, with folded arms. They looked as though they were in the middle of an argument, no doubt caused by Tasuki trying to get up sooner than the doctor advised.  
  
Chichiri sat down on the floor and looked up at Tasuki thoughtfully. Nuriko went to the window and stared out at the rain, ignoring everybody. I wasn’t sure what to do, but there was an empty chair near the bed, so I sat there and began to play softly, working on Chichiri. Mitsukake’s little cat watched me with an unnerving, knowing expression.  
  
Chichiri began to explain to Mitsukake and Tasuki what had happened, but he didn’t do nearly well enough at telling how impressive Hotohori had been. (Come on-- _nobody_ should be able to move that much water so easily!)  
  
When Chichiri finished, Mitsukake made a humming sound, as if he were considering something.  
  
“It’s only drizzling now,” sighed Nuriko, completely oblivious to the rest of the room.  
  
“ _Man_ , that scared me!” said Tasuki. “Miaka tryin’ to drown herself like that!” He coughed painfully, then looked thoughtful. “When it comes to feelings, she’s just a normal girl, I guess.”  
  
I stopped playing. “Yeah, but what amazed _me_ was His Majesty’s powers!”  
  
Mitsukake and Chichiri turned toward me, surprised. I was gushing. I really needed to shut up.  
  
Nuriko sighed again, dramatically. “His Majesty is so awesome...” He drifted into a daydream, murmuring something to himself and blushing. The four of us just looked at him.  
  
He clasped his hands together in a gesture of supplication to the heavens. “Maybe _I’ll_ try drowning.”  
  
Tasuki laughed. “Yeah, and Hotohori will comfort Miaka at your _funeral_!”  
  
I don’t know how Nuriko moved so fast, but somehow he made it to the bed and punched Tasuki in the face before anyone could stop him. Tasuki gave a suffocated cry of pain, and Mitsukake scowled at Nuriko. There was a flurry of heated words, which I didn’t pay attention to. Chichiri seemed well disposed toward me now, so it was time to gather information.  
  
I turned to him and widened my eyes, affecting cuteness. “But isn’t it true that Suzaku won’t appear without Tamahome? What’ll we do?”  
  
He put one finger near his mouth thoughtfully. “His Majesty has stated that if Kutou attacks, Konan will fight no da. What worries _me_ is Miaka no da.”  
  
“I hope she recovers soon,” said Nuriko, joining our conversation.  
  
“What do you mean, if Kutou attacks, Konan will fight?” I asked, ignoring him. “Aren’t we _already_ planning action against Kutou?”  
  
Chichiri blinked at me. “Of course not no da. War would be hard on the common people no da. His Majesty wouldn’t send his people to a meaningless death just to expand his territory no da.”  
  
I stared at him, thunderstruck. “I... I thought... Konan isn’t planning to invade Kutou?”  
  
“No,” said Chichiri, “but we will protect ourselves when Kutou attacks no da.”  
  
“They’re such _expansionists_ ,” said Nuriko. “I wish they would stay in their own country and leave ours alone.”  
  
“Oh, they’re always invadin’ some country or other.” Tasuki groaned. “They’ll never stop.”  
  
“And their emperor!” Nuriko lowered his voice conspiratorially. “They say he likes little boys as much as he does land.”  
  
“Yer one to talk.”  
  
“Shut up! I don’t go after _children_.”  
  
“That’s enough,” said Mitsukake firmly. He nodded his head toward me. “Little pitchers have big ears.”  
  
My jaw dropped indignantly. “I’m not _little_!” And I already knew about the emperor’s predilections.  
  
Chichiri and Mitsukake exchanged amused expressions.  
  
“Okay,” grinned Mitsukake.  
  
“Whatever you say no da,” laughed Chichiri. He ruffled my hair. “Chiriko is so cute no da!”  
  
I scowled. I swear, sometimes killing these people sounded like fun. I could not _wait_ to show them what I could do.  
  
Halfway through the morning, the rain picked up again, and I was bored. I longed to be out of the city, or at least out of the palace. I wanted to go the market and see what kinds of livestock and crops the people of Konan raised. There wouldn’t be anyone selling today, though, not with the rain, so instead I explored the palace. Nobody gave me any trouble--servants and guards knew who I was and let me pass, even into the kitchens and the royal quarters. I was surprised, and then I was surprised by my surprise; I already knew that these people were too trusting.  
  
I tried halfheartedly to get into the seraglio, just to see if I could, and it was good to see that at least they wouldn’t let me in _there_. I told the guards that I was just interested in seeing where Nuriko had used to stay. One of them looked as though he thought I was just trying to get in to see the women, but the other one was more patient. He apologized and explained that no unauthorized person was allowed in or out for even a good reason.  
  
I was prowling my way through the wing where the emperor stayed when I heard the murmur of Miaka’s voice. Curious, I moved toward the sound. She was still in His Majesty’s chamber, talking with him in soft tones. Even though I couldn’t understand ¬what she was saying, I could tell she was still upset. I paused by the door, wondering if there was anything I could do to make her feel better.  
  
The sound of hurrying feet came down the hall. I didn’t want to be caught listening at His Majesty’s door, so I slipped behind a supportive column--probably one of the worst hiding places ever, but the hallway was empty of furniture, so I didn’t have very many options.  
  
It was one of the royal advisors, probably the one in charge of security, flanked by two heavily armed guards. They pounded on the door.  
  
“Your Majesty! We have a report! A bandit appears to have entered the castle!!”  
  
I could hear creaking and thumping as Hotohori did something (got up off the bed, maybe?) and moved to the door. His voice was muffled. “A bandit!?”  
  
I tried not to imagine what had been going on inside the room. I had thought Miaka was in love with Tamahome...? She didn’t seem like the type to give up so quickly, but, on the other hand, she _was_ in a lot of emotional turmoil.  
  
 _The priestess has to be a virgin_ , I reminded myself. _Hotohori has a strong sense of honor._  
  
The man at the door cleared his throat. “The guards report that it is the celestial warrior of Suzaku, Tamahome!”  
  
My eyebrows flew up, but I managed not to betray my surprise with a sound.  
  
I heard Miaka say something too muffled to understand, then cry out, “Hotohori!?”  
  
The door banged open as the emperor came striding out. He slammed it behind him and barred it closed.  
  
“H-Hotohori!? What are you doing!?” Miaka’s voice came through the door.  
  
“Miaka,” said His Majesty authoritatively, “I need you to stay here until this is finished. Under no circumstances are you to open this door! Do you understand?”  
  
She didn’t answer that I could hear. He pressed on, “I’ll protect you! Be at ease. I’ll return soon.”  
  
“Hotohori... Hotohori, wait!!”  
  
He ignored her calls, striding past the three men with a dark expression. They followed. They were walking away from me, luckily, so I didn’t have to hold my breath as they went past.  
  
As soon as they were out of sight, I went to His Majesty’s door. Miaka was still banging on it. I could hear her sobbing, “Let me out of here! I have to see him!”  
  
 _Are you really thinking of something so foolish, Miaka?_ I wondered, and I knelt down, put my mouth near the wooden block that barred the door, and breathed some of my chi into it to give it extra strength. She mustn’t get out.  
  
Having done this, I ran back to Tasuki’s room. My shoes were squelching wet, and I was annoyed, but not enough to stop. Mitsukake was still in Tasuki’s room, but I pounded on Nuriko’s and Chichiri’s doors as I went past.  
  
I flung open Tasuki’s door and said breathlessly, “Tamahome’s here and His Majesty has gone to fight with him!”

Mitsukake and Tasuki looked confused.  
  
“Come on!” I insisted, turning on my heel to leave. I was stopped in the doorway by Chichiri.  
  
“Where are they?” he asked, serious.  
  
“In the courtyard,” I said, panting a little. “We have to go.”  
  
I didn’t question _why_ we needed to be there. It just seemed like the right thing for all of us to be there together.  
  
Mitsukake helped Tasuki stand, and the injured man hobbled toward me with most of his weight on a large stick.  
  
“Tasuki, maybe you should stay here no da,” began Chichiri, but Tasuki growled at him.  
  
“I’m goin’.”  
  
I turned to go, with the other three close behind me, when Nuriko came barreling after us. “Hold up a second, Chiriko!” He reached out to grab my shirt. “Is it true? Tamahome is--”  
  
“Yer _sure_!?” interrupted Tasuki.  
  
“Yes!” I said impatiently. “I overheard the guards talking.”  
  
I led the way to the courtyard, checking to see that my flute was still tucked into my belt. It was raining so hard that the wood of the instrument was soaked and swollen, and it probably wouldn’t respond the way I needed it to, but it was still better than no weapon at all.  
  
His Majesty wasn’t there. The courtyard was empty except for one figure.  
  
Tamahome was a silhouette against the dark sky, wrapped in a thick cloak and dripping with water and evil. His eyes locked with mine, and I shivered. He was strong, he was determined, and he would not be merciful. I knew this as well as I knew the man who commanded him.  
  
“Where is Suzaku no miko?” he asked, his voice ringing out and echoing against the stones.  
  
My lips parted, but I couldn’t speak.  
  
“T-T-Tamahome!!” Nuriko clutched my arm, his skirts swirling about my legs as the wind whipped them sideways.  
  
Tasuki moved forward, flinging out his arm dramatically. “You got some nerve showin’ yer face--”  
  
He stomped his foot hard on the ground, slipped, and fell. Crouching down with my back to the enemy, I poked at Tasuki with my flute. “Are you alive?” I whispered.  
  
Tamahome took no notice of this scene. He continued talking, this time to Nuriko and Chichiri, who were still facing him. “I’m not interested in you. Just tell me where the Priestess is.”  
  
Nuriko was terrified, and even Chichiri looked uneasy. I don’t think they were afraid of a fight, exactly; it was more that they didn’t know how to behave toward a hostile Tamahome. After all, they’d known him before and had been friends with him. Tasuki, on the other hand, was angrier than he was upset, and Mitsukake just looked sad.  
  
I could only stare at the enemy, knowing, _knowing_ , that I couldn’t give up that innocent little girl to him, and that even if I did, he’d still kill all of us. I was wondering whether it would be worse to face Nakago’s wrath if I refused to help his assassin or if I surrendered Suzaku no miko and revealed myself as a fake... worrying about what would happen to my brother if I did the wrong thing... worrying about what would happen to my brother after Tamahome killed me...  
  
For the first time, I truly perceived the intricacy of Nakago’s scheming: the layer upon layer of plans and backup plans, intertwined with each other and supporting each other. Nakago could not fail; he would win as a matter of course, and when he did, he and the Emperor of Kutou would destroy everything in the world that was beautiful.  
  
I didn’t believe any more that they didn’t have designs against Konan. Of course they did--why had I been blind to it before?  
  
Ascertaining the truth was a matter of simple logic. Nakago said that Konan wanted to invade Kutou. Chichiri said that wasn’t true. Nakago tells lies. Chichiri doesn’t. Therefore...  
  
Therefore, I was fighting on the side of evil, and I couldn’t stop because I was terrified of Nakago and of what he would do to me and to my brother. And now he had sent Tamahome to kill me anyway, even though I had served him pretty much faithfully, and these other people were going to die, too. They would probably have painful, torturous deaths.  
  
At least if _I_ killed them, I wouldn’t make them suffer for too long.  
  
“He has to be stopped,” I whispered, but I don’t think anyone heard me. They were staring at a figure that had appeared out of the thick rain. Even Tamahome had turned toward this newcomer.  
  
“Your Majesty!?” Nuriko breathed uncertainly.  
  
It was the emperor, and he looked at Tamahome with sharp, piercing eyes.  
  
“Suzaku no miko,” Hotohori began, but then he corrected himself. “ _Miaka_ is safe from you. If you must see her, you will go through me, Tamahome!!”  
  
He threw a sword to the ground, and it clattered on the paved stones at Tamahome’s feet. “Take this sword, Tamahome! I will not fight an unarmed man!”  
  
I think that the emperor never looked as beautiful as he did then, standing proud and noble with his hair and his robes whipping against him in the wind.  
  
Tamahome took up the sword and threw the sheath to the ground. Hotohori drew his own weapon, facing him. The rest of us stood motionless, hardly daring to breathe.  
  
Both of them were skilled, but it was obvious that Hotohori was the better fighter, and I began to feel less like my death was imminent. After only a few minutes of fighting, he wounded Tamahome’s shoulder. Blood spurted from the cut, and Hotohori withdrew a little, apparently hesitant to hurt his fellow warrior any further. I admire him for that.  
  
Tamahome looked at him and grinned. It was so wicked. I was terrified.  
  
“Have you...” the emperor said, breathing hard. “Have you _even_ forgotten your love for Miaka?”  
  
“Love?” Tamahome laughed. “What a _joke_!”  
  
Their swords clashed together again and again, and I began to worry. Hotohori may have had more skill, and his opponent’s laughter had killed his desire for mercy, but Tamahome was more determined, and he didn’t care about injury, so he was able to take more risks. Why were we letting this go on, when another fighter could assure victory for our side? Did we have _such_ honor?  
  
Then I realized, with a sickening feeling, that I’d never seen a single one of these people hurt someone. I doubt Mitsukake would raise a hand against another person, and Chichiri had probably taken vows against violence or something. Tasuki might have been decent at defense, but he was barely able to stand up on his own.  
  
I tugged on Nuriko’s sleeve. “This is to the death!” I hissed. “Shouldn’t we try to stop them?”  
  
He shook his head matter-of-factly. “That would be impossible.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Don’t you see? Hotohori’s in a different state of mind. His kindness is gone. He’s a completely different person now.” Nuriko lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “No one can stop them until one of them lies dead.”  
  
I was confused by the answer until I figured out that he thought I was worried about _both_ of them. (I actually couldn’t have cared less about what happened to Tamahome.)  
  
“Tamahome,” roared the emperor, “I cannot let you win! As a man, I must defeat you!” He slashed open the muscle under Tamahome’s left arm, and I felt much better.  
  
“His Majesty’s incredible!” breathed Tasuki. He had recovered and was able to stand, supported by Chichiri as much as by his walking stick. “Tamahome’s gettin’ whipped!”  
  
“His Majesty’s chi is overpowering Tamahome,” explained Chichiri. “His determination to protect Miaka has focused his whole being no da.”  
  
Sometimes it’s annoying how these people constantly fill each other in on things that are obvious.  
  
Tamahome had been knocked down, so that he knelt on the slippery ground. Hotohori stood apart, sword ready. “If you insist on killing Miaka,” he said, “I’ll have to kill _you_ first!!”  
  
Tamahome threw himself forward, and the two of them ran at each other.  
  
“ _No_!” (This shriek came from Miaka, who hurtled out of the palace, dressed only in a loose robe.)  
  
“How did she get out?” I turned wide eyes to Nuriko.  
  
“What is she wearing?!” he answered. It _was_ indecent.  
  
Hotohori, probably involuntarily, turned toward Miaka’s voice. His lips parted and his eyes softened (also probably involuntarily).  
  
Tamahome snatched up the opportunity. Leaping into the air, he screamed, “ _Die_!” and brought his sword down toward the emperor’s neck.  
  
 _This is why he locked you up, Miaka_ , I thought in horror.  
  
In tears, she launched herself at them. “NOOOOO!!”  
  
This time, it was Tamahome who turned his head to look at her. Hotohori quickly thrust up his sword, which went straight through Tamahome’s abdomen as he fell down upon it. Blood started spurting from his mouth, splashing on the emperor. Hotohori ripped his sword back out, and Tamahome fell on his back on the stones. Miaka stopped in her tracks, frozen for a minute.  
  
Then she screamed. “ _Tamahome_!! Tamahome!! Tamahome!!” She ran to him, not sparing a single glance for the emperor, and took him up in her arms.  
  
Hotohori was stunned. The rest of us were alarmed: should we stop her? Nuriko put his hands over his mouth to cover his gasp.  
  
She ignored all of this. “Tamahome!! Please... No!! Open your eyes!!”  
  
Hotohori’s sword clattered to the ground.  
  
“You _can’t_ die!! _Tamahome_!!” She was hysterical now, lying on top of him, weeping into his shoulder. Blood and rain were seeping into her robe.  
  
She should be stopped... but surely he was incapable of hurting her now? I looked to Hotohori, who was closest to the pair. He would be able to intervene if something were to happen.  
  
“Suzaku no... miko?” Tamahome gritted his teeth around the pain.  
  
Miaka smiled at him. “Tamahome!!”  
  
Weakly, he reached for his abandoned sword. “Ki... Kill!”  
  
 _Kill?_ I thought. _Really? That’s a bit overdramatic._ I am so inexplicably detached at times.  
  
“ _No_!!” said Miaka. I was relieved to see her showing some sense. She continued, “Don’t move! You’ll open your wounds more.”  
  
“I have to kill... you,” he coughed.  
  
Miaka placed his hand on his sword and moved it toward her. “If you have to,” she said, “then kill me.”  
  
I moved to take out my flute, but Mitsukake put a hand on my shoulder, and I stopped.  
  
“But you have to _recover_ first,” she went on. “Then you can kill me, if that’s what you want! If it’s _you_ , I don’t mind a bit! But you _can’t_ die.”  
  
She was sobbing in earnest. “I love you, Tamahome!” She threw herself forward and kissed him.  
  
I wondered, idly, what it would feel like for Tamahome to be kissed by somebody he hated. What do you do when that happens? Does it make you feel sick? Can you turn your head or something so as not to respond? But I guess Miaka wasn’t thinking about things like that; she was just loving him.  
  
I couldn’t imagine loving someone that much. I mean, I could imagine it, but I’d never felt it. To be willing to die for someone--not for a cause, but for a _person_ \--could there be anybody in the world worth dying for? I mean, besides Suboshi, but that goes without saying, and it’s not the same thing anyway. I’ve often imagined myself dying for a cause, like justice or love or peace for the entire world, but never for a specific person. Maybe a better question is, could there be anybody in the world _not_ worth dying for? Because all people are equally worthless, which makes them equally worthy, and when you die a martyr’s death, you are sacrificing for an ideal, not for an individual.  
  
I think I love ideas more than I love people. I don’t believe that makes me a bad person, but some people probably wouldn’t like it. For example, I’m sure Suboshi would be hurt if he thought that I loved some abstract concept of “justice” more than I loved him. I just... well, I just won’t ever tell anybody how I really feel, that’s all, and then they won’t get hurt.  
  
“I’ll always love you,” Miaka whispered. Tamahome’s eyelids fluttered closed as she kissed him again. She was so sweet and so sad, and we all just stood there, unable to do anything to help her, until Tamahome raised his sword.  
  
I had my flute to my lips even before Nuriko screamed out a warning, but Hotohori thrust out a hand in front of us.  
  
“ _Stop_!!” he commanded. “Look at _that_!!”  
  
Tamahome’s hand went limp, and his sword dropped to the ground with a clang. His red kanji symbol began to glow, and he opened his eyes. He looked different, somehow. Well, the difference was that he no longer looked drugged.  
  
“Miaka...?” He looked very confused. “Why are you crying?”  
  
He reached up to touch her face, obviously trying to figure out what was going on. “Sorry... I know I promised to meet you at midnight... Looks like I’m late.”  
  
Miaka clutched his hand and burst into tears. “Ohh... Th-that’s all right,” she sobbed. “The clock... is striking midnight... this very moment.”  
  
The rest of us stood there, bewildered. _Poor Hotohori_ , was all I could think.  
  
Tamahome tried to sit up, but Miaka threw herself into his arms. “We’re finally together... _Tamahome_!!”  
  
“Miaka!” he responded, clasping her to his chest, and I noticed that the rain had stopped. I found the idea of the sun _actually_ coming out at such a moment to be irresistibly funny, but everyone else looked grave, so I bit my laughter back. (Isn’t it creepy that I’m this detached?)  
  
She shifted against him, and he cried out in pain. It was like a signal that we could all move, and Mitsukake hurried over to the couple. He knelt next to them and stretched out his hand over Tamahome, saying, “He’ll be fine. I’ll heal him now.”  
  
“Mitsukake!” cried Miaka gratefully.  
  
Tamahome blinked at the healer, then noticed the man standing behind him. “Your Majesty?” he asked innocently.  
  
“Tamahome.” Hotohori managed a sad smile. “You’re finally back among us.”  
  
Nuriko and Chichiri ran over to welcome Tamahome back, and I trotted after them shyly. Tasuki couldn’t move very easily, so he didn’t come, and when I turned back, I saw that he’d gone back inside.  
  
I hastily bowed when Miaka introduced me to Tamahome, then tried to decide whom I should ask for permission to leave. Miaka was engrossed, and I didn’t want to bother Hotohori. I tugged on Chichiri’s sleeve. “May I please be excused?”  
  
He looked at me, a little surprised. “Certainly no da.”  
  
“Thanks.” I dashed off after Tasuki.  
  
He was in his room, lying on his back on the bed, on top of the covers, with a cloud of frustration hanging over his head.  
  
I slipped in and shut the door behind me. “Are you okay?” I ventured.  
  
He grunted. “Yeah. Just tired.”  
  
“You must be disappointed that Mitsukake will have to wait another day to heal you,” I said, hoping that wouldn’t make him angry. “You must be in an awful lot of pain.”  
  
He grunted again, which of course meant that he _was_ in a lot of pain, but didn’t want to say so.  
  
“I don’t understand,” he said, “how she could love someone like that.”  
  
I knew whom he meant. “Someone like Tamahome?”  
  
I perched on the end of his bed and pulled my knees up to my chest.  
  
“You weren’t there, Chiriko,” he said darkly. “He said horrible things to her. He _broke her arm_. What is she doin’ with somebody like that?”  
  
“Chichiri and Nuriko say he used to be nice,” I offered.  
  
“Who cares?! He _hurt_ her.”  
  
“Tasuki...” I said. “Isn’t it possible that--”  
  
“Are you goin’ to suggest that I just hate him because he beat me up?” he demanded.  
  
“No, of course not.” I sighed. “But... they must love each other very much, if all she had to do was cry on him and he snapped out of the kodoku spell.”  
  
He sighed, and there was a long pause while we both mused. Finally, he said, “Sucks to His Majesty, huh?”  
  
“Kind of,” I agreed. “Good for Nuriko, though.”  
  
We both laughed, and the dark cloud was gone.  
  
It was still late morning, but I sat with him until early evening. He dozed off, and I played my flute, and neither of us noticed that we missed lunch. When I got bored, I curled up on top of the blankets and fell asleep, too.  
  
I woke up to a knock on the door. Chichiri poked his head in. “Do you two wanna come have a drink with us no da?” he asked. “Nuriko wants to celebrate Tamahome’s return no da.”  
  
Tasuki yawned. “What?”  
  
“Tamahome went back to Kutou to get the scroll no da,” said Chichiri patiently. “He’s just returned.”  
  
“He moves fast,” I said sleepily. “All the way to Kutou and back again in one day...”  
  
Chichiri laughed. “I sent him with magic no da.”  
  
“Oh...” I yawned and sat up. “Tasuki, do we want to go?”  
  
“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”  
  
Nuriko and Hotohori were in one of the rooms of the royal suite. His Majesty had perched gracefully at the window, watching the stars, but Nuriko was sitting at the table with his chin in one hand.  
  
“Mitsukake’s not here,” I observed, sliding into an empty chair at the table.  
  
“He’s tired from healing Tamahome,” explained Nuriko.  
  
Chichiri helped Tasuki into the chair next to Nuriko, then sat down across from me. “Where’s Miaka?” he asked.  
  
“Come on, don’t be so stupid!” said Nuriko. “With Tamahome, of course!”  
  
He poured three cups of sake and, keeping one for himself, handed them to Chichiri and Tasuki. I raised a questioning eyebrow at him, and he smiled sweetly back at me and said nothing.  
  
“I don’t get it,” said Tasuki, downing his entire drink in one gulp. “How’d they break the kodoku spell? Wasn’t it supposed to be powerful?”  
  
Chichiri looked thoughtful. “I believe that when Tamahome was wounded, his life force weakened, and the kodoku was feeding off his life force no da.”  
  
“Ohhh! I get it!” said Tasuki. “Then Miaka’s love went and destroyed the last of its power!”  
  
A soft voice came from the window ledge. “Let us not forget Tamahome’s love for Miaka.”  
  
Nuriko cuffed Tasuki’s ear. “You _idiot_. His Majesty was listening.” Chichiri tried to get between them before they started a real fight.  
  
Hotohori was staring out the window, smiling wistfully, framed by the stars. Tentatively, I approached. “Your Majesty?” I looked up at him. “Would you like to hear a song?”  
  
He turned his face down to study me. “Yes,” he said, finally. “A song would be very nice.”  
  
I knelt at his feet and began to play, knowing that the piece was floating out through the open window, getting into every corner of the palace, curling around the plants in the garden and the furniture in the rooms, and infusing everything with my spell.  
  
Chichiri managed to separate Nuriko and Tasuki, and they went back to drinking in moody silence.  
  
After a while, His Majesty said he was going to bed, and everybody rose (except Tasuki, who couldn’t), but he smiled wearily and told everyone to stay. Chichiri walked him ¬back to his bedroom, saying that he wanted to speak with him about something, and as soon as they left, Nuriko and Tasuki started complaining simultaneously.  
  
“It is so unfair!” burst out Nuriko. “No matter how hard I try, he’ll always like her more than me! And no one understands...”  
  
“That girl don’t know what’s good for her,” growled Tasuki, who was by now a little drunk.  
  
They had a lot more to say, but it was mostly the same stuff over and over again. I felt sorry for them, because I could tell that they were both suffering in their own ways. And then I started thinking about how all the people I knew were suffering, and I just couldn’t play anymore. I got up and started to pour myself some sake.  
  
Tasuki grabbed my wrist. It hurt. “How old are you?”  
  
“Practically almost sixteen! How old are _you_?” I asked, a little snottily. I don’t believe _he_ was a day older than eighteen.  
  
He glowered at me. “Old enough to know how to drink.”  
  
“I know how to drink,” I informed him archly.  
  
“Oh?” Nuriko raised an eyebrow. “When was the last time you had alcohol?”  
  
I think my face reddened. Anyway, my cheeks felt hot. “A long time ago, at a village festival.”  
  
“And what happened?” he demanded.  
  
“Um,” I said. I looked off to the side. “I had a very bad headache.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” he said.  
  
I opened my mouth to protest.  
  
“Don’t be a brat,” said Tasuki.  
  
“Kids like you don’t need to drink, anyway,” said Nuriko. “It’s not like you have any problems.” He sighed dramatically.  
  
Shocked, I stared at him with my mouth still open. “Wh-What?” I managed to sputter, after a moment.  
  
“Are you suffering from unrequited love?” he asked with a grand gesture. “Did your beloved die? Are you carrying the weight of a nation on your shoulders?”  
  
“Are you fuckin’ incapacitated,” interjected Tasuki, “because of a traitor who _cheats_ an’ don’t fight fair?”  
  
I blinked at them for a full minute without speaking. Finally, I said, very, very quietly, “ _Everybody_ is hurt. _Everybody_ loves somebody who rejects them, or dies, or goes away.”  
  
They looked at me, surprised.  
  
“I bet life is really hard for you, _Nuriko_ ,”--I surprised myself with my own bitterness--”living in a palace and having everything you want. Don’t complain about people misunderstanding you when you _choose_ to be different. All of _your_ problems are your own fault!”  
  
I must have been really angry, because my voice and heart had turned to icicles. “Has either of you watched someone murder your parents? Has either of you been forced into prostitution or slave labor? Has either of you ever gone hungry so you wouldn’t have to watch your little brother starve?!”  
  
I glared at them, my hands on my hips. “Has either of you ever _killed someone_?”  
  
Neither of them said anything. They just looked at me and then at each other, clearly worried, and I realized that they thought I was _cute_.  
  
I was furious that they could be so patronizing, and then, suddenly and bizarrely, it made me feel all kinds of weird feelings like _safe_ and _wanted_ and _cared for_. I hadn’t felt like that since I was nine years old, and I don’t need to feel that way anymore, because I’m not a child. I’m supposed to be the one who makes _other people_ feel safe and wanted and stuff. Still... it made me unable to be angry with them.  
  
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I just... I know that you’re feeling bad. But it just makes me think about all of the other people who must be feeling worse.”  
  
I chewed on my lip.  
  
“You okay, Chiriko?” Tasuki eyed me critically, as if he were looking for some physical sign of insanity or something. I was immediately annoyed again.  
  
“Yeah,” I said shortly. “I’m just tired. I’m going to bed.”  
  
“Get lots of sleep. We’re summoning Suzaku tomorrow,” Nuriko said with irritatingly fake cheerfulness.  
  
“Ask him to make you less of a freak,” I snapped. “Good night.”  
  
I felt really bad about that. I had to come back into the room after I’d stomped out in order to apologize. He was gracious about it, though.  
  
“It’s okay, Chiriko,” he said, flicking his wrist as if he were waving the offense away. “You’re under a lot of stress right now. I know you didn’t mean it.”  
  
“I really _didn’t_ mean it,” I said. “You’re not a freak. I... like you a lot.”  
  
He beamed at me.  
  
“You, too, Tasuki,” I added. “I’m glad we’re friends.”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“Aren’t friends _nice_?” sighed Nuriko with a lovey-lovey kind of voice.  
  
“Um.” I didn’t know what to say to that. He’s so _weird_. Everything was suddenly very awkward. “Yes. Good night. Really.”  
  
I rushed back to my room and shut the door behind me, feeling like an idiot.  
  
I washed my face, undressed, and reflected on my bad behavior. How could I have let myself explode like that? A decent, grown-up, respectable person always kept control over his feelings. And that’s what I wanted to be: decent, grown-up, respectable--somebody with a lot of self-control and self-denial, somebody who was invariably genial and chivalrous and kind. Nakago was like that--well, no, Nakago wasn’t. He was self-controlled, but he was never kind. His Majesty Hotohori was, though. So maybe I wanted to be like Hotohori.  
  
It was stupid to risk their opinion of me like that. The more I thought about it, though, the more I felt like it might have been okay, after all. I mean, with these people, somebody’s having an emotional crisis every five seconds. I figured I got at least one free freak-out session, right? Knowing these idiots, it would actually make them feel sorry for me, and they’d end up liking me even more.  
  
I sat on my bed, with my back against the wall and my knees drawn up to my chest. It must have been very late, but I wasn’t tired. I’d slept for nearly the whole afternoon, you know.  
  
I watched the sky through my window. I was looking for my stars, but I had to turn my head in a way that hurt my neck, so I gave up quickly. As I returned to a comfortable position, I saw a streak of light in my constellation, and my heart sank. I went to the window so I could see better, and there was another one: a shooting star. I _knew_ it! There was another and another--a meteor shower--and I put my hand to my head and knew with all the certainty in my soul that I was doomed.  
  
I pulled off the bracer that covered my left forearm.  
  
 _Suboshi?_ I scratched cautiously.  
  
 _Aniki!_ came after a moment, in sloppier-than-usual handwriting.  
  
 _What’s going on there?_ I asked.  
  
 _I’m sleeping,_ he replied.  
  
I thanked all the gods. At least Suboshi didn’t know about the meteors; he would have freaked. _I_ wasn’t going to tell him.  
  
He’s such a kid, you know? He can’t take care of himself at all. It’s because I’ve been a rotten parent. Every so often, I catch him saying these awful things--like about killing people and stuff--and I’m sure it’s my fault because he’s seen me doing things like that. It’s kind of hard to tell him that an action is wrong for him to do but okay for me to do, and it’s hard to explain that sometimes you have to do something bad, but it’s never okay to _enjoy_ doing it. I doubt he’d even be able to make an ethical decision on his own, and I worry that he’ll end up in trouble--but his moral development is my responsibility, so I’ll always cover for him.  
  
 _What time is it?_ he wrote. I could feel sleepiness in all of his actions.  
  
 _I don’t know._ _  
  
__Well._ There was a pause. _Did you need something?_ _  
  
__The ceremony to summon Suzaku will be held tomorrow_ , I wrote. _I thought you should know._ _  
  
__Okay. I’ll tell Nakago._ _  
  
__Thanks._ I felt bad about waking him up. _Good night._ _  
  
__Good night..._  
  
There was a knock on my door. I hastily covered my arms.  
  
“Chiriko?” It was Chichiri’s voice. “Are you awake no da?”  
  
“Yes...” I scrambled out of bed and unbarred the door, opening it for him.  
  
He didn’t come in, just looked at me piercingly. “Are you all right no da? Tasuki and Nuriko said you were upset about something no da.”  
  
I almost started laughing. The solemnity in his voice just didn’t match his cheerful face.  
  
“I’m all right,” I assured him. “Really.”  
  
“Well, if anything is bothering you, be sure to let me know.” His voice suddenly went quiet and intense, and he slid his mask off. There was a huge scar where his left eye should have been.  
  
I think I may have shivered. I couldn’t look at anything but that scar, and I felt like _such_ a tool.  
  
“I want you to think about this seriously,” he went on, still in that low, sober voice. “Your home was destroyed, and nobody paid any attention to that. And what you had to do back in Tamahome’s village--that was difficult. We should have made sure you were all right afterwards, and we didn’t. I’m sorry.”  
  
He bowed in apology.  
  
“Um.” Tamahome’s village? Oh... I guessed he meant when I killed that guy. “It’s all right, really,” I said. “It’s not your fault.”  
  
(Still staring at the scar, still feeling like a tool!)  
  
“Well,” he said, “if you want to talk about it, please don’t hesitate to seek me out. I...”  
  
He looked down for a second, and I realized he was feeling unsure of himself. It was weird, thinking of Chichiri as lacking confidence in some way.  
  
“I doubt that anybody else knows what it’s like to take another person’s life,” he said quietly.  
  
I was startled. My gaze flickered up to his good eye.  
  
For a moment, he stared back at me, almost as if he were trying to look into my soul. Then, suddenly, he sang out, “Good night no da!” and slid back easily into his cheerful mask.  
  
How. Completely. Terrifying!!  
  
Since that moment, I’ve been convinced that Chichiri is some kind of wicked-awesome assassin who has probably killed like a million people in the middle of the night, and they never knew it was him because he seemed so nice, which is his secret weapon.  
  
“Chichiri!” I grabbed his sleeve as he started to walk away. (Ugh, I’m so _girly_ sometimes.) “Um... I think you’re amazing!”  
  
He turned and blinked at me for a moment, then smiled. I could tell he thought I was just-the-most-adorable-thing-ever.  
  
“I do,” I said earnestly. “Maybe... Maybe we can talk about this stuff sometime?”  
  
I knew we never would, because I’d be killing him tomorrow, but it felt good to pretend.  
  
“Come find me no da,” he said, still smiling, and he left, and I shut my door and fell asleep on top of my blankets.


	3. Movement 3: Scherzo: Allegro vivace

“Fear causes an ebullition of the blood, which disturbs the regular action of the lungs, and which likewise warms the tongue and fingers. From this a most obstructive trembling of the limbs arises in playing, and as a result the flute player will be unable to produce extended passage-work in one breath, or other specially difficult feats, as well as he does in a tranquil state of mind.”   
Chapter XVI “What a Flutist Must Observe If He Plays in Public Concerts”   
  
“And when he has finished his piece, he should not insist upon playing more than is demanded of him, lest we must beg him as many times to cease as we had to beg him to begin, a common reproach made against virtuosos.”   
Chapter XVI “What a Flutist Must Observe If He Plays in Public Concerts”

~*~

I was awake early the next morning, so I was already dressed when Miaka knocked on my door.   
  
I let her in, feeling a little embarrassed to have her in my bedroom.   
  
“I came to invite you to breakfast!” she said cheerfully. “Because we’re summoning Suzaku today! And Tamahome’s back! I just came from talking to him!”   
  
I had to smile with her. “Are we all having breakfast together?”   
  
“Mm-hmm!” She perched on the edge of my bed, almost wriggling with happiness, like a puppy.   
  
“Well, um,” I said, looking at the door hopefully, “shouldn’t we go then?”   
  
“In a minute,” she said. She twisted her mouth up into an adorable expression of consternation. “Um, Chiriko?”   
  
“What is it?” She was acting as if she wanted to talk about something serious. I went patiently to kneel at her feet.   
  
“Are you feeling bad about something?” she asked innocently. “I mean, since it’s the summoning ceremony today, I want everything to be right with all of us, and I feel bad because I don’t think I’ve been there for you like I’m supposed to and...”   
  
“Did someone say that to you?” I asked. “Because I think you’ve been perfect. Did someone tell you something like that?”   
  
“Noooooo...”   
  
“Who was it?” I demanded.   
  
“Well, Chichiri just said that I should be sure to pay attention to _everyone_ , and not get _too_ excited by Tamahome being back, and I know he’s right because I was thinking the same thing. Or I would have been. If I hadn’t have been so excited about Tamahome being back.” She looked at me expectantly.   
  
“Um, it’s really okay, Miaka,” I said. “Everybody knows how much you love Tamahome, and it wouldn’t be right if you weren’t glad to be with him. How’s he doing, anyway?”   
  
“Great!” she said. “Except he can’t remember anything he did under the kodoku.”   
  
“Well, that always happens,” I said, before I thought.   
  
“Oh, do you know about kodoku?”   
  
“No! I just mean, wouldn’t you expect a drug that affects the mind to have some strange aftereffects?”   
  
“That makes sense,” she said thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’m glad he doesn’t remember it. He would feel bad.”   
  
I smiled at her. “I can tell that you’re going to be happy together.”   
  
Immediately I felt guilty. _In your next lives_ , I amended.   
  
She beamed at me. “I know it, too. But, um, I still feel bad because--I mean, it’s true that you’ve only been with us for a few days--but I don’t know anything about you!”   
  
“What is it you’d like to know?” I asked, a little apprehensive. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to lie to her, or tell her something humiliating, like some stupid story from when I was a kid.   
  
“Is it true you were forced to be a prostitute?” she blurted.   
  
“ _What_?! No! What?!”   
  
“But Nuriko said--”   
  
I leapt to my feet, fully intending to go punch Nuriko in the face. (I hope she read my indignation as shock. It’s so embarrassing.) “Then he misunderstood me! I just said that for _effect_! I mean... I _didn’t_ say it. I didn’t say that I was a... that I... I was trying to make a point!”   
  
“Sit down,” she said, tugging on the hem of my shirt.   
  
I obeyed reluctantly, settling myself next to her on the edge of the bed. “I hope,” I muttered, “that he didn’t say that just to get me back for... No, he wouldn’t.”   
  
I think my cheeks were still red.   
  
Miaka clung to my shirt, the very picture of sweetness. “Um... Chiriko...”   
  
I looked down at her, entranced by the little fingers that twisted the fabric. “Yeah?”   
  
“It _is_ true that you saw your parents murdered, though, right?” Her voice was quiet, and she was looking at the floor.   
  
I watched her for a minute, during which she didn’t look up. And I didn’t know what else to tell her besides the truth.   
  
“No,” I said. “I didn’t see the soldiers actually slash into them. I just saw their bodies afterwards. Well... my mother’s body. My father wasn’t dead yet.”   
  
It was blunt and unemotional because that’s the only way you can talk about things like that.   
  
“I’ve never smelled anything so disgusting; I wanted to throw up,” I said. “But she was still beautiful, even with...”   
  
_Even with her insides spread out over her legs._   
  
I breathed out slowly. “It was her birthday.”   
  
_Stupid, stupid details._   
  
Nobody had ever asked about this, and I’d never talked to anyone about it, not even Suboshi, not even since we “grew up” and became too strong to be afraid of silly things like memories, and all of a sudden it was very difficult to speak at all. I bit my lip.   
  
“Oh, Chiriko,” Miaka breathed. “It must have been so awful for you!”   
  
She put her arms around me and snuggled her face into my chest. I didn’t know how to respond.   
  
“It’s so horrible! You must be suffering so much!” she wailed. Then she started actually crying tears. “You’re so brave!!”   
  
“Um, it’s okay,” I said, awkwardly patting her back. “Really.”   
  
She sat up and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I want you to be so happy, and such terrible things have happened, and here I am crying over _your_ problems!”   
  
“Well,” I said, “you’re a very compassionate person.”   
  
I smiled at her encouragingly; she smiled back, and it was like sunshine breaking through storm clouds.   
  
“Thank you for thinking I’m brave,” I mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. _Because I’m not, not even a little bit. Even though that’s how I want to be._   
  
“Thank you for being my seishi,” she replied, smiling. “Wanna go eat?” She stood and reached her hand out to me. I took it.   
  
_If I met a girl like this and I didn’t have to kill her_ , I thought, _I’d die for her instead._   
  
A girl liked me once. (At least I think she did.) She was pretty--she had dark hair and animated eyes, and she was the most optimistic, fearless person I’d ever met. Miaka is prettier, though. And even more animated and optimistic and fearless.   
  
I think I would have fallen in love with that girl if we’d spent enough time together. It would have been hard not to--she kind of bowled me over with everything she felt and said and did. She wasn’t very smart, either, now that I think about it. But being dumb makes girls that much cuter, sometimes. (Oh, is that an awful thing to say? It probably is. I keep finding ways that I’m not a nice person.)   
  
I think I like dark hair best on girls.   
  
We were eating in the same room we’d been drinking in the night before. Nuriko and Tasuki were already there, but they’d changed positions and Nuriko, at least, seemed energetic, so I assumed they’d gotten some sleep. Tasuki was taking up far too much of his share of the table, but I think that was related to his being wrapped up in so many bandages that he could hardly move.   
  
“Good morning!” Miaka slid into the chair next to Nuriko and started piling food on her plate.   
  
“Good morning, Miaka!” sang Nuriko. Tasuki sort of grunted.   
  
I hesitated. Should I sit by Tasuki? If I did, I might be overcrowding him, but it would be weird if I sat across from Miaka and not by Tasuki, because then I would look like I was trying _not_ to sit by either of them. I hate little decisions like that.   
  
“Chiriko, sit by me!” said Miaka, patting the chair next to her.   
  
“But don’t you want to sit by Tamahome?” I asked.   
  
“He can sit across from me,” she said, kicking the chair that faced her. “You sit here.”   
  
“Okay,” I said, sliding into the chair. I looked over the table to Tasuki, who was having a difficult time with his chopsticks. I opened my mouth to offer assistance, but he glowered at me and I shut up.   
  
Mitsukake came in whistling a few minutes later, and there was another chorus of good mornings. “His Majesty is in a meeting,” he announced. “And Chichiri said he already ate.”   
  
“Ohhhh, really?” Miaka was disappointed. She pouted a little. “But I wanted everyone to--Tamahome!!”   
  
Tamahome bounded in, looking like the happiest man in the entire world. He looked so happy, in fact, that Nuriko and Mitsukake gave each other a _look_ , then surreptitiously (well, surreptitiously on Mitsukake’s part, anyway) eyed Miaka.   
  
Tasuki made a sound like he was going to throw up.   
  
I noticed the glances, but I don’t think either Miaka or Tamahome did. Miaka was much too absorbed in her food, and Tamahome kept gazing at her adoringly. When he doesn’t have those scary, cold eyes, he really does look very much like Chuuei.   
  
It’s a mystery to me how he can be so blind to her faults. I mean, I think she’s wonderful, but even I can hardly stand to watch her eat without getting sick to my stomach. (Just another of her charms, I guess.)   
  
She kept staring back at him and daydreaming, leaving her mouth hanging open with half-chewed food in it.   
  
“Miaka, your face is out of alignment,” said Nuriko finally. Mitsukake sent him a look of gratitude.   
  
She closed her mouth and started chewing again. “Sorry. But I’m just so happy! Tamahome!!”   
  
Tasuki growled audibly.   
  
“What’s the matter?” asked Tamahome cheerfully. He saw Tasuki’s untouched food and added, “Aren’t you hungry?”   
  
Tasuki made a disgusted sound. “Just the _sight_ of you makes me nauseous!”   
  
Tamahome made a confused, crabby face. “What is _with_ you? I meet you for the first time and you don’t even say ‘hi’.”   
  
Tasuki exploded. He jumped to his feet--well, he did the closest thing he could to jumping--and bellowed, “Th-The first time? The first time! Look at these bandages! Who do ya think’s _responsible_!?”   
  
Tamahome gasped indignantly and balled his hands into fists.   
  
Tasuki brought his fist down to bang it on the table and accidentally hit his injured elbow on Tamahome’s clenched fist. He let out a howl of pain. “I’ll get you for that, ya punk!”   
  
Tamahome was poised for battle. “Come and get me!”   
  
“Look at them,” Miaka leaned back to say to me. “Best friends already!”   
  
“Do best friends fight like that?” I mused, bending forward to her ear.   
  
“Miaka!” Nuriko beamed. He thrust a bowl of food in her face. “I have a teeny favor...”   
  
“Hmm?” Miaka had inhaled half the food already.   
  
“When we conduct the ceremony to summon Suzaku,” said Nuriko sweetly, “will you wish for me to become a _woman_!?”   
  
Miaka looked up, shocked and maybe a little horrified. “B-become a woman!? _Why_!?”   
  
Nuriko, understandably, was a little taken aback. “So I can fix His Majesty’s _broken heart_ , of course.”   
  
Miaka was stunned. I leaned forward protectively before I could even think about it. Mitsukake also started toward her, and Tamahome, responding to some sound that only an infatuated man could have heard, dropped his tussle with Tasuki to look at her.   
  
Anybody could see that Miaka felt _awful_ about Hotohori. Why would Nuriko say something so painful? It couldn’t have been on purpose.   
  
He didn’t seem to notice what he’d said, just kept chattering on. “Everybody listen up! If anybody has a wish, Miaka’s taking requests!”   
  
“N-N-Nooo!!” Miaka waved her hands in front of her face to emphasize her words.   
  
Mitsukake went back to eating quietly.   
  
“My wish is to get this guy beat up!” roared Tasuki, and Tamahome was drawn back into the argument. Nuriko stuck his nose in it, too, trying to get them to stop, which just made both of them turn on him.   
  
Miaka had forgotten about her food and was staring into blank space.   
  
“Uhhhh... are you okay?” I frowned at her.   
  
“Oh! Yes.” She smiled weakly at me. “Um, Chiriko?”   
  
“Hmm?”   
  
“Do you really think Hotohori’s heart is broken?”   
  
I didn’t say anything for a minute. Finally, I answered, “Yeah, maybe.”   
  
“Oh.”   
  
I didn’t know what to say to make her feel better, so I played a song for her instead.   
  
The ceremony wasn’t supposed to take place until the late afternoon, so I had all day to feel nervous about it. Chichiri and Miaka had to do extra purification rituals or something, and Hotohori had a lot of meetings. The rest of us were supposed to be meditating and purifying ourselves, but there seemed to be an agreement among the five of us that it would only take us like ten minutes to get ready.   
  
Tasuki and Nuriko went back to Tasuki’s room, followed by Tamahome, who was still trying to figure out exactly what he’d done to make himself so despised.   
  
I perched on a handrail and watched the morning go by. I dangled my legs over the shrubs, I played my flute, and I meditated. I felt very strongly that I should spend some time thinking about the consequences of what I was supposed to do, but at the same time, I was aware that if I thought about it too much, I might convince myself not to go through with it. When it comes down to it, I guess, I’m just lazy--and the easiest thing was just to lock my heart away and behave according to the plan.   
  
Chichiri dashed by me at some point and said, “Chiriko! His Majesty and I have a meeting in the Waen Pavilion no da! Don’t let anybody bother us no da!”   
  
“‘Kay,” I answered, without moving my flute from my lips.   
  
After a while, Mitsukake came and sat by me. He faced the opposite direction (toward the walls of the palace, away from the garden), so it was a very easy position for conversing. He didn’t seem to want to talk, though, so I didn’t say anything. I just played my flute, working more of my chi into all the resonating spaces of the palace.   
  
A tangled blur came-- _whisssht_ \--dashing right by me, so close that I was startled.   
  
“Oh!” I said, jerking my head up. “Oh... Miaka?”   
  
She stopped, her face level with my dangling feet, and looked up at us. “Chiriko, Mitsukake!”   
  
We looked at her.   
  
“Um... Have you seen Hotohori?” she asked in a deliberately casual manner.   
  
“His Majesty has been meeting with Chichiri,” I informed her. “They are not to be disturbed.”   
  
“He is?” She looked disappointed. “I really need to see him.”   
  
I began to play again. It only took a few seconds to perk her up.   
  
“Chiriko, that’s such a happy song!” she said, smiling again.   
  
“It gives courage and strength.” And I made a decision. “His Majesty is in the Waen Pavilion on the right, down this walkway. I’m sure His Majesty will see _you_.”   
  
I meant because she was important, so I hope that didn’t sound snippy or mean.   
  
Miaka ran off almost before she finished thanking me. “I’ll see you at the ceremony!” she called, waving.   
  
I returned to playing and deliberately not thinking. Mitsukake watched her go, however, turning his neck to see over his shoulder.   
  
When she had left his sight, he turned back to face the wall of the palace and mused, “The ceremony.” He _hmmed_ to himself. “She worked so hard. I hope that Suzaku will be safely summoned.”   
  
At this, I stopped. “I’m sure it will happen.”   
  
Whenever I lie, I’m terrified that everyone knows, because I feel so guilty that it must be obvious on my face. And whenever I feel anguish, I think that everyone must know because it changes the way I speak and the speed at which I move my hands, and it makes my eyes dull. If I had only myself to ask, I would believe that I was the worst liar in the whole world, but everyone says that I am poised, and nobody notices when I’m bluffing, so I must be good at it, I guess. Does it make you an evil person if you’re talented at evil things?   
  
Nuriko suddenly appeared between the two of us. “What a nice tune!”   
  
I was so startled that I jumped away, and (I think) I shrieked. Mitsukake, of course--I’m so jealous of him--merely looked surprised.   
  
“Say,” said Nuriko nonchalantly, “what does Miaka ‘really need’ to talk to Hotohori about?”   
  
Mitsukake said nothing, but I could almost _feel_ how silly he thought Nuriko was being.   
  
“Dunno. To tell him she loves him forever?” I quipped.   
  
“Say that again and you’ll eat that flute,” Nuriko replied mildly.   
  
Chichiri must have learned something from his trip to Kutou, because he put up a bunch of wards against Seiryuu warriors. I needed to get into the shrine, though, so I had to spend most of my morning taking the stupid barriers back down. I left just a shell of them there, so he wouldn’t notice they were disabled.   
  
I went and took a bath before lunch because I didn’t want to end up sharing the baths with anybody. I was terrified someone would see my kanji symbol. So far I’d managed to avoid being naked in front of other people, and I didn’t want to blow it on the last ¬day. Can you imagine what Nakago would do if I was caught on the very day of the ceremony?! I think his wrath would freeze the whole world over into winter. In like five seconds.   
  
While I was in the baths, I got annoyed at that Chiriko tattoo. I didn’t want it, and I didn’t need it any more. (Well, I hoped I wouldn’t need it any more.) I didn’t want to have it at the ceremony. So I let Suboshi know that I’d be blocking out his chi for a few minutes, swam over to where I’d put my clothes, took my pocketknife, and dug into my skin to scrape the ugly thing off. I probably don’t need to tell you that this hurt. It was satisfying, though, and I always heal quickly--although I had to use some extra chi to do it.   
  
It turns out that the shrine wasn’t actually _in_ the main palace, so we all had to go over together after we ate. There was a big parade with lots of bodyguards. His Majesty and Miaka rode in litters, and he offered us horses to ride.   
  
I was too embarrassed to say that I didn’t know how to ride a horse until Nuriko started fussing about getting horse-smell on his clothes, and then I figured that I couldn’t possibly look more ridiculous than _that_. Tasuki made fun of me, but he shut up when I looked at him sweetly and suggested that he teach me. He couldn’t ride, either, not with all of his injuries. Mitsukake suggested that we all walk.   
  
For as much “preparing” as they were doing, I don’t think Hotohori and Chichiri were very organized about things, because we had to stand around and wait for like _hours_. It was kind of interesting at first to watch the servants set up the accoutrements, but after I’d explored the whole temple and came back and everyone was still standing around...   
  
The worst thing in the world is _waiting_ , especially when you’re nervous. If something didn’t happen soon, I was going to go crazy. Especially since I could feel a new chi, one I wasn’t familiar with, and it was Suzaku chi. It was very faint, but it was coming closer.   
  
We had all started to say ridiculously obvious statements. It was Tamahome’s turn. “Look at all the soldiers outside! So, it’s finally going to happen.”   
  
I rolled my eyes where no one could see me.   
  
Hotohori, distracted, muttered something like, “Yes...”   
  
“Say, Chichiri,” said Miaka, “what happens at the ceremony?”   
  
She didn’t already know? _Tch_. We were never going to get started. I started counting the number of curlicues in the molding.   
  
“To put it simply,” Chichiri explained patiently, “the incantation in _The Universe of the Four Gods_ is recited, then the book is thrown into the fire no da.”   
  
He handed her the scroll, and she looked at it. “Who’s supposed to read it?” she asked.   
  
“The Priestess of course no da.”   
  
Miaka freaked out a little. “You’re _kidding_ , right? These kanji characters are way too difficult! Whenever I had to read in class, I’d screw up, and the teacher would assign me loads of extra kanji homework!”   
  
She couldn’t read? I was intrigued. It’s rare that someone of such high status wouldn’t have a basic education, but maybe in the other world she had to work hard and didn’t have time to study. She had said she was a student, though...   
  
“Your Eminence.” Two maidservants bowed. “We are here to serve.”   
  
Miaka was confused. “Serve? I already ate. A little coffee cake would hit the spot, though.”   
  
“Not quite,” said Hotohori, hastily rescuing the scroll from her careless hands. “They are here to assist in your bath and in your donning the garments of the Priestess. You should finalize your wishes in the meantime, since you will only have three.”   
  
“What!? Only _three_ wishes!? Oh, noooooo!”   
  
Honestly, didn’t they tell her anything beforehand? I mean, Nakago wouldn’t have, but I guess I expected something different from these people.   
  
The two women led Miaka out.   
  
Tamahome, who had not been paying attention, suddenly turned and noticed that she was leaving. “Oh! Miaka, there’s something I’d like you to have...”   
  
_Blam_ ! “Gen-chan’s _back_!!” A very energetic Tasuki tackled Tamahome, knocking him to the floor, and then stamped on him.   
  
Tamahome grabbed his shirt. “Watch it! That _hurt_!!”   
  
“Eh? Oh, Tamahome!” Tasuki feigned innocence. “I didn’t know you were on the floor. I gotta be more careful what I stomp on.”   
  
“Tasuki’s recovered,” observed Chichiri. “Your doing, Mitsukake no da?”   
  
Mitsukake nodded. “Yup.”   
  
“It certainly was more peaceful before his recovery.”   
  
Tasuki whirled on Chichiri. “What’d you say!?”   
  
I kind of hoped there would be a fight--anything to relieve the tedium and my nerves. But Chichiri had too calming an influence.   
  
“I don’t get it,” said Nuriko out of the blue.   
  
Tamahome went to him. “What is it, Nuriko?”   
  
“Hey, you remember how Taiitsukun gave us the crystal ball to find Suzaku’s warriors when _The Universe of the Four Gods_ was missing?”   
  
_I_ didn’t remember. I don’t think I’d been given that information.   
  
“It’s shining again,” he continued. “And this character means knowledge.”   
  
_Oh, damn it._ I thought my heart was going to leap out of my throat. I was going to get caught, I was going to get _killed_ \--   
  
“It’s probably broken,” said Tamahome, shrugging. “We have all seven celestial warriors now.”   
  
“Yeah, you’re probably right!” Nuriko beamed and skipped away to do whatever it was he needed to do.   
  
I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. _What_?! What was the matter with these people?! They had a _magic hand mirror_ from _the ruler of the universe_. It _told_ them that Chiriko was nearby... and they... they... How could anybody be that dumb?! As if something Taiitsukun gave them would break...!   
  
The new chi--Chiriko--was coming closer, but there was still plenty of time for us to perform the ceremony before he or she arrived. I just wished we would get started.   
  
When nobody was looking, I slipped out the door to find a place to be alone. After looking around to see that nobody was there, I slid up my left sleeve, removed the wristband, and carefully began scratching the symbols on the soft skin of my inner arm.   
  
_The ceremony is about to begin_ , I wrote. I was trying to be succinct.   
  
I was concentrating on Suboshi, so even though he didn’t write an answer, I could feel his flush of pride. He’s always so proud of me. I feel bad about being glad that he looks up to me, because I don’t really deserve it. There are so many things I could have done better, and things I did that were just plain wrong--or maybe not “just plain” wrong, because so many times I could never tell just exactly what the wrong thing was--and as much as it warms me to think of his admiration, I am overcome by guilt every time I feel it.   
  
I want so badly to protect him, because nobody else will. I have to protect him, and I have to protect Kutou, and I have to protect myself. There’s nobody we can turn to for help. There is nobody strong who loves us.   
  
Miaka’s bath took a long, long time, and I had nothing to do but sit on the steps and think about what I had to do.   
  
I didn’t want to do it, because these people were nice, and they didn’t deserve to die. At least, not any more than anyone deserves to die. (Sometimes I think that the world is so horrifying that maybe everybody should just stop living, and then there would be peace.)   
  
I reminded myself that it was better for seven innocent people to die quickly than for thousands of people to die in a war, because war deaths are ugly and messy, and there are things like rape and enslavement and rice fields on fire and the smell of rotting entrails and children having to see the people they love with pieces of flesh ripped out of them--people being sodomized with knives and having their babies ripped out of their stomachs and watching their lives and their livelihoods burn away--orphans and widows and missing limbs and unwanted, half-breed babies and the screams of terrified horses--   
  
_But there isn’t going to be a war_ , something inside me whispered. And that was right; Konan didn’t have any plans to attack Kutou (which was silly of them--any nation ought, by the laws of the world, to try to take over the resources of other nations). And I believed that they weren’t going to do it because Chichiri said so and he doesn’t lie, and because Hotohori actually _cares_ about people.   
  
But Kutou would attack Konan.   
  
So maybe I should just tell them who I was? But if I did, what would happen? Chiriko would get here, and they’d summon Suzaku, and Konan would be safe from Kutou (and _Kutou_ wouldn’t be prevented from invading by any kind of compassion, I was sure), and everyone would be happy here. They’d send me back home, and Nakago would slit my throat. Or rather, they probably wouldn’t send me back to Kutou, ‘cause ¬they’re too nice, the little idiots, and Nakago would slit my brother’s throat. And I wouldn’t even know what happened to him, because if his throat were going to be slit, he’d break the link between us so I wouldn’t get hurt, too... Or maybe it would happen too quickly for him to react, and all of a sudden out of nowhere, there’d be this big cut in my neck and I’d be bleeding out, all alone, in some soft, pretty room that they’d locked me up in while they decided what to do with me.   
  
Or maybe Miaka would take forever in the baths, and Chiriko would get to the shrine in time, and I wouldn’t have to make this decision. That would be easier. But the same things would happen, only they wouldn’t be my fault, and I wouldn’t mind dying or even knowing my brother was dying if only it wasn’t _my fault_.   
  
Death would be a relief compared to this. I started to hope that Chiriko would hurry. Or that Miaka would loiter. Either one.   
  
But it probably wouldn’t happen. The strange Suzaku chi was still a long way away. I sighed and hugged my knees to my chest and tried to think of something else I could do--anything else. Maybe I could kill just one of them, because all seven were needed to summon the god, so if one of them were dead, then... But whom would I choose? It would be bad for Konan if I chose Hotohori or Miaka, but then Miaka would be miserable without Tamahome, and I really liked Chichiri and Nuriko and Mitsukake and Tasuki, too, so... I guessed I could just not aim at any particular one of them and just start running as soon one of them died? That way I wouldn’t have to pick. Nakago might be mad, but how mad could he be, as long as Suzaku couldn’t be summoned? Well, he could be _really_ mad, but I was sure he wouldn’t be mad enough to hurt me or my brother. At least not _seriously_ hurt.   
  
But intricate plans, as often as they work for other people, they never seem to work for me. I can plan and plan and then I end up doing whatever seems best at the spur of the moment, anyway.   
  
There was no way to get out of it, so I’d just do what I was supposed to do, and then I’d kill myself or something, because there was no way I’d ever be able to forgive myself. Thinking about killing myself made me feel better, because that would at least explain the separation spoken of by the falling stars, so it meant that maybe nothing bad had to happen to Suboshi. I was never going to see him again; it seemed so certain that it wasn’t worth hoping otherwise.   
  
_You know_ , I thought, _I’m probably going to get killed anyway_. Even if I were successful today, I’d have to try to escape through the scores of trained soldiers stationed around the shrine. I supposed I could try to kill all of them, too, but I didn’t want to have to do that. And who knows how much energy I’d have left? It takes a lot of chi to overcome a celestial warrior--and I had to take down six of them.   
  
I hated Nakago with every bit of me. I hadn’t known, up to that point, that I’m capable of hating somebody that much, but it seems that I am. I can forgive him for hurting me; I can forgive him for hurting the people I love; I can forgive him for lying and manipulating and grubbing for power--but never, never _ever_ will I forgive him for _forcing me to do what I know is wrong_. All I want--all I ever wanted--was to be _good_ , and now I won’t be, ever, because sin is like an ink stain that can never be washed out, and he’s the one who made me like this, and _I let him do it_.   
  
And in this way, I learned to hate myself, too. All the things I’d hated about myself before--the things I’d done that I felt guilty about--those were petty little things, and I had been proud to feel guilty about them because I thought that the fact that I felt guilty about stupid little things meant that I was a better person than other people. But when you’ve done something bad, something really, really, really bad--something so bad that it’s useless to try to hide it--the shame of it is written all over you in a way that everyone can see, and I’ll never deserve love or respect again. I was a pawn, I was an idiot, I was so irresponsible to let somebody else take charge of my morality--and what a person, too! Could there be a worse person to whom one might entrust one’s soul?   
  
No, I had to die.   
  
If I were going to die, I wanted to talk to my brother first. I focused all of my awareness on my brother, wondering how he was, what he was doing... He was distracted.   
  
_I met Seiryuu no miko today,_ he said.   
  
I was a little jealous. I’d been looking for her for so long, and I never, never found her. But I was happy for Suboshi. _What is she like?_ I asked.   
  
_She’s nice._ By which he meant she’d snubbed him. I could tell that he was trying not to be angry with her. Combined with what I knew about her treatment of Miaka, her attitude toward my brother erased any respect I might have had for her initially (which was a little painful). She’s an idiot if she lets Nakago manipulate her into working with his plans, and I felt sorry for her.   
  
“Chiriko!” Nuriko came scampering outside and bounded over to me. I allowed him to pull me to my feet. “Everybody’s here; we’re starting now!”   
  
It wasn’t true; Miaka wasn’t there yet, and it was another ten minutes before we actually got started. His Majesty was unduly anxious, though: he kept positioning and repositioning us and then checking with Chichiri to make sure it was okay. (Chichiri kept repeating that whatever was fine.) I was standing between Mitsukake and Tamahome, which was actually ideal for me because Tamahome couldn’t hurt me ¬unless he got close enough to punch or kick--and he wouldn’t be able to--and I wasn’t worried about Mitsukake at all.   
  
Despite His Majesty’s best efforts, people wouldn’t stay where they were supposed to stand, so once he had three or four where they were supposed to go, he had to go find the others and put them back.   
  
I’ve never been allowed inside the shrine of Seiryuu in the Kutou palace, so I don’t know what it looks like. _Suzaku’s_ shrine held a huge gilded brazier that stood on a platform; it was so tall that they had to bring a carved wooden box for Miaka to stand on in order to reach its opening. The floor was painted with representations of the four directions and the twenty-eight constellations. I automatically looked for my stars and then had to cover it up by studying all of the other constellations, too.   
  
When Miaka finally entered, we were standing in little clumps; Tasuki was bragging to Nuriko and me about all the things he’d done when he was a bandit. Nuriko was giggling, and I was forcing myself to laugh. Tasuki stopped all of a sudden in the middle of a story and looked up at the door, and at the same moment, the whole room went silent. We turned to see what he was looking at.   
  
Miaka was standing in the doorway, looking incredibly self-conscious. Her cheeks were red, she was clutching the hems of her sleeves, and she had this expression that said something like, “Do I... Am I...?”   
  
It was a very revealing dress--I didn’t even know they could make fabric that sheer--and her hair was twisted up in a complicated style that must have taken two or three attendants to prepare. There was enough jewelry hung on her to finance the purchase of an entire province. She was beautiful... but she looked like a little girl wearing her mother’s clothes. _It was so adorable!!_   
  
Chichiri and Mitsukake exchanged a glance, and Mitsukake shook his head.   
  
With a clear voice that seemed too loud in the silence, Chichiri said, “Everyone, please gather.”   
  
We all moved to our places. His Majesty nodded for all of the servants to leave, although, I noted, the guards didn’t go far. Chichiri helped Miaka ascend the stairs onto the platform and announced, “Once the Priestess starts her incantation, all warriors are to drain their chi in unison no da.”   
  
My breath caught, but I managed to exhale slowly, trying to calm my racing pulse. I hadn’t expected such luck.   
  
Tasuki looked stunned. “But that means we’re gonna be totally defenseless.”   
  
“If someone attacked us, we’d be annihilated,” Nuriko almost whined.   
  
Chichiri waited for them to shut up with an adamant smile. Then he said something to Miaka that we couldn’t hear. It must have been something encouraging, because she seemed heartened. Her eyes flickered around the room, looking at the very serious faces that surrounded her. Her gaze landed on me last, and I tried to hold it steadily.   
  
Suddenly, she looked stricken, as if she’d thought of something important, and she looked away from us and stared into the flames. Her mouth moved, and it looked to me as if she were praying.   
  
“Miaka! We have to begin no da!” reminded Chichiri.   
  
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and folded her hands.   
  
Chichiri opened the scroll and murmured, “I summon all the great forces of justice, faith, and goodwill...” and Miaka repeated the words with increasing confidence. I could feel the energy flow around me change as the others emptied themselves of their chi.   
  
It was a long incantation, and I didn’t really listen to it. I was going over, note by note, the pieces I was planning to play. My fingers twitched as I visualized the fingerings. There was a quick run over the break that worried me, even though I’d been practicing it and hadn’t made a mistake on it for months.   
  
Miaka finished speaking and threw the scroll into the brazier. It was completely silent except for the popping and crackling of the fire. After a long time--when I was sure the scroll must have been consumed by the flames, everyone started looking at each other. They’d expected something to happen. But nothing did.   
  
Miaka looked confused. Her seishi looked anxious.   
  
“Why...?” said Tamahome. “Why won’t anything appear?”   
  
I began to play.   
  
Everyone’s head jerked around to look at me instead of the fire. That pissed me off. Why did they have to look so damn _surprised_?   
  
I took a step forward and intensified the sound, breaking down all remaining traces of their wards and building my own--I didn’t want the guards to get in until I had finished.   
  
“Chiriko!?” Miaka didn’t know what was going on.   
  
Suddenly, Nuriko clapped his hands over his ears. And then they were all covering their ears and screaming. Their heads hurt.   
  
I watched them dispassionately. I don’t know how I do it exactly--it seems like I’m usually oversensitive to other people’s pain--but I can turn it off and stop caring. It’s like I lock up my heart and everything hardens over into ice, and then I do my job and feel guilty about it later.   
  
I had to talk to myself in my head, remind myself why I was doing this. I had to take little bits of resentment and spin them into hatred.   
  
So I told myself that I hated them. I had thought they were so nice, but I didn’t even know them. I’d only been around them for something like four days. How good could they be, _really_? People aren’t _good_. I hated them, hated them for their happiness and their bright futures and their clean pasts. I hated them for being so stupid. How _dare_ they?! How dare they escape the tragedy that touched everyone else I knew? How dare they be so... so... so naive, how dare they... It wasn’t _fair_. People like this didn’t deserve to live.   
  
When I resolved the cadence, I stopped, and there was a moment where we all stared at each other. I kept the mouthpiece of my flute resting beneath my lower lip.   
  
“You all failed, you know,” I said, cold as the river in winter. “Now you’ll _never_ be able to summon Suzaku.”   
  
Miaka looked up at me with a tear-stained face, her hands still pressed over her ears. “Chiriko!! Why are you...?!”   
  
Maybe I should have gone on to the next song without pausing, without speaking, but... I’m not sure why I did it. I guess I just wanted them to understand. I wanted them to know what I’d done, that I’m not a kid, that... I guess it’s kind of stupid to want to impress people you’re trying to kill, isn’t it?   
  
I smiled quietly. “Do you know why I was always playing my flute, Miaka? The sound is painful, isn’t it? The pain is all the more intense because I’ve been poisoning you all with my chi every time I played.”   
  
I’d planned the speech, choosing more aggressive language than I’d used as Chiriko. I don’t usually refer to myself with assertive pronouns like that, but then usually I have to be deferent. It was kind of fun to try out a new character (the intrepid hero? the cruel villain?).   
  
Miaka gasped. “Then... _You_ were the one controlling the bats...”   
  
I raised an eyebrow and half-smiled. That was a big leap for a small brain. “Yes. That was me. The man I killed was just a pawn I brought with me from Kutou. Too bad for him, but I needed to kill him to gain your trust.”   
  
I had to look down and blink hard to banish the tears that were threatening to come. I’d already said too much, but I still kept talking; I am _such_ an idiot.   
  
“You were fooled by my tattoo of the ‘Chiriko’ character. You’re too trusting. That’s your weakness.” I looked up determinedly. “And now, it’s your downfall.”   
  
Tamahome was growling, “Are you a Seiryuu--?” and Tasuki was reaching for his fan (“Dammit! Rekka Shinen!”). I’d forgotten how it worked--he could use it even when drained of chi--but it didn’t matter. My chi was so elevated that the flames couldn’t burn my skin, just my clothing.   
  
I instinctively turned to protect my face, and the flames licked my right shoulder, burning away my tunic and revealing the symbol that glowed there. It was perfect, as if it had been designed. I lifted my chin proudly, and my eyes blazed with hate.   
  
“I am the Seiryuu celestial warrior Amiboshi! This is the song of shredded souls!!”   
  
I closed my eyes. I didn’t need to see them, didn’t want to look at them in their pain--they couldn’t touch me now. I concentrated on my fingers flying on the keyholes, on the rising sequences, on the trills. I’d played the same song when I’d first met them, and I didn’t doubt that they remembered _exactly_ what happened to the bats.   
  
They were screaming and clutching their heads. Those that could get out words were yelling about their pain, but Miaka... That poor, sweet girl.   
  
“Ch-Chiriko!” she cried. She took a step toward me, stumbling. The force of my chi was tearing at her clothes and undoing her hair.   
  
“ _Miaka_!?” Tamahome was furious, but he couldn’t move. “Damn! How can we block out this sound!?”   
  
“Chiriko, stop it!” she commanded. “Chiri--”   
  
I opened my eyes and let my hatred hit her in the face. Why was she still calling me that name?   
  
She cried out in pain.   
  
Another thirty seconds, and they’d all be dead--helpless, defeated by one warrior, younger than they were. But I was more experienced, obviously. Heh. I guess that’s what comes from a damaged childhood.   
  
My head jerked right automatically. There was another sound--high, thin, like the sound of a whistle or a reed flute, but different. It was faint, but it was enough to interfere with the sound I was making.   
  
There was a collective sigh of relief, and everyone relaxed. Their hands pulled away from their heads.   
  
Chiriko had arrived.   
  
What are the odds that he or she would know exactly what to do to stop my spell?   
  
I freaked out. I stopped playing; what was the point? I started sputtering about the sound, and my attack being blocked, and other stupid stuff like that. I hadn’t planned for this. I should have.   
  
Then there was blow to my left cheekbone as Tamahome’s foot collided with my face. It felt like my skull was shattering. I fell back onto the floor, and the air was knocked out of me. I twisted so my weight was on my feet and my left hand (my right hand was still holding onto my flute), I pushed myself up, and I _ran_.   
  
They were yelling behind me; the guards rushed in, but I vaulted over their heads. Whoever was following me--it must have been Tamahome and Tasuki; I could hear them cursing--was blocked by them, though, so I got a good start.   
  
I am a fast runner, but I’m sure Tasuki could have outrun me if his chi had been stronger. As it was, though, I was fine. There wasn’t anybody in the whole country that could run as fast as I could. I scrambled up over the wall of the shrine and onto the roofs of the city. There were people crowding the streets, but up here, I could run. I didn’t know where I was running to, exactly--just _away_.   
  
I didn’t want them to catch me. It’s not that I thought they would hurt me or anything (they’re _just that nice_ ), but I didn’t want to look at them, I didn’t want to explain to them, I didn’t want to stand there and feel their pity and their contempt. I’d already wrecked ¬their summoning ceremony, and their scroll was burnt up so they couldn’t try again (at least until they got Taiitsukun to give them a new one). Looking at them, I’d have to see all of their disappointment. I didn’t want to think about what they’d do next, about what I’d done to them; I just didn’t want to _think_.   
  
I hated them, I hated myself, I hated Nakago, I hated the whole world. I was sure I was going to slip on the shingles and fall and break my neck, but I didn’t care.   
  
There used to be a time when everything made sense, when I was a good person. We had to snuggle for warmth, and half the time I went without food so my brother could eat, and nobody loved us, but I never wondered what I was supposed to do because I knew _exactly_ what I lived for.   
  
Tamahome and Tasuki were behind me; I could hear them, and I knew their chi. Tamahome kept trying to tell me to stop running--did he think I was going to obey?--and Tasuki kept trying to shoot flames at me. I think he hit Tamahome instead. There were a lot of pain-filled shrieks and angry voices.   
  
There was a big space between roofs, and I thought maybe there was a public market or something, but of course, it was the river.   
  
It was too wide for me leap over it, so I jumped to the ground. The shock of the landing hurt my shins.   
  
There was a man sitting on the edge of the river, next to (what I assume was) his boat.   
  
“I need your boat, _now_!!” I could feel my face flushing, but I was too breathless and panicky to be polite. (I know, I know, that’s a bad excuse, isn’t it?)   
  
“Not today!” said the man, looking at me in surprise. “The river’s flooded with all the rains. Some folks have drowned already.”   
  
I looked at the water, and he was right--the river was swollen and moving fast. It was brown from the mud upstream and full of dangerous-looking debris. There was no way I wanted to have anything to do with it. But to my left there was a bridge!   
  
I whirled around, but Tamahome and Tasuki were there, blocking my way. I made a sound of frustration and poised myself to run, but I was trapped.   
  
“That’s far enough!” growled Tamahome. He was angry, but he was trying to keep Tasuki from pulling out his fan and killing me immediately. I wasn’t sure whether to be touched or disgusted.   
  
“You’re Amiboshi?” he almost accused. “Besides you and Nakago, who are the other Seiryuu celestial warriors!?”   
  
As if I were going to answer a question like that! (I still couldn’t believe they didn’t know about any of us except Nakago.)   
  
“You’re wasting your time interrogating him,” said Tasuki. “He betrayed us!! Now it’s time for _payback_!!”   
  
But what was he going to do to pay me back? Hit me? Kick me? Punch me in the face? I bet he’s not half as tough as he thinks he is. Even if he knew how to kill somebody, he didn’t know how to make somebody suffer. And Tamahome clearly wasn’t going to let him near me, anyway.   
  
I decided Tasuki was the weaker one, so I prepared to spring left. Unfortunately, as I leapt into the air, Chichiri and Miaka suddenly popped into existence on top of Tasuki. Apparently, Chichiri had regained some of his powers.   
  
“Tamahome!” cried Miaka. “Tasuki! Stop it, _now_!!”   
  
That adorable little idiot was trying to protect me. What did she think, that she was going to have a talk with me, and that I’d cry a little, and we’d hug and make friends, and then everything would be okay? Did she think she could _fix_ me?   
  
They would have _let me go_. After I destroyed them, they would _still_ have protected me.   
  
I was swinging my flute down to hit Tasuki (well, now Miaka, I guess) on the head, but Tamahome moved in front of me, ready to catch hold of me. I tried to shift my weight in the air, which is really hard.   
  
“Stop it Chiriko!!” Miaka was practically in tears. “Why would you want to hurt anyone when you play such _beautiful_ music on your flute!! You cheered us up! You soothed our hearts! Your flute shouldn’t be used to hurt people!”   
  
_Is that what you think?_   
  
And I was stricken.   
  
I don’t know what I was doing. I landed on one foot and slipped on the rock bank that held back the river, I think, or maybe the rocks crumbled under my feet. I’m not usually that graceless.   
  
I’m supposed to be graceful. I’m supposed to be poised.   
  
But now I...   
  
Now I fell. I fell backwards, and it was the most wonderful thing in the world, because I was free. I didn’t have to be anybody, I didn’t have to do anything, and Nakago could go to hell. No gods would be summoned--no war, no suffering.   
  
“Chiriko!!” Miaka had pushed past Tamahome and was reaching out for me. Of course... _Of course_ she’d try to save me.   
  
But I didn’t want to be saved. I smiled at her, severed the bond that linked me to my twin, and let my mouth and nostrils fill with water.   
  
I don’t know whether I’m a coward or just lazy, and I don’t know which would be worse. All I know is that I allowed myself to be pushed along by circumstances just as I was pushed along by the flow of that river, and I could have _done_ something. I don’t know _what_ \--but I could have, ought to have, done _something_.   
  
When I was a child, I always wished that, after I died, people would know that I had made the world a more peaceful place. (Gosh, that sounds so _pretentious_ when I say it out loud.) But this... This was for _nothing_.   
  
How could I ever have thought that I was better than other people?


	4. Movement 4: Finale: Allegro molto

“A style of music that is received and approved by many peoples, and not just by a single land, a single province, or a particular nation, must, if it is also founded on sound judgment and healthy feeling, be the very best.”  
Chapter XVIII “How a Musician and a Musical Composition Are to Be Judged”  
  
“...that which does not come from the heart does not easily reach the heart.”  
Chapter XIV “Of the Manner of Playing the Adagio”

~*~

It turns out that you can’t just drown, unfortunately. At least, I couldn’t. My limbs started moving on their own, pushing me up so I could breathe.  
  
Drowning is easier when your arms and legs grow too tired to move on their own, and logs and garbage keep smacking into your head, and the undertow is strong enough to pull you down even when your body struggles to stay afloat. When that began to happen, I felt both exhausted and relieved. If I ever try to kill myself again, I’m definitely trying the same thing. I’m not sure I could actually plunge a knife into my heart or drag one across my throat, but it’s easy to throw yourself into a river. And afterwards, if you chicken out, it’s too late. It’s perfect.  
  
I only remember being very tired, and then a pain in my head, so I must have hit it on something. That would have been the perfect time to slip underwater and stop breathing, but I’m profoundly unlucky, I guess.  
  
The people who saved me are normal, regular people, and I like them. But they’re one more group to deceive, to impress, to try (with more or less success) to please.  
  
Kaika has a nice name. I like it. He has a nice life, too, in a nice country. His parents were so glad to have me, and I feel sorry for them. It’s kind of sad and creepy how they miss their son so much that they decided I was going to take his place.  
  
I couldn’t remember very much at first--it wasn’t a lie when I told them that I didn’t know my name or where I’d come from. It didn’t take me long before things started coming back, but why say anything about it? They were so glad to have Kaika back, and I didn’t mind being him for a while. Or even permanently. I learned to swear by a new god, to eat food with new spices, and to perk up my ears when I heard a new name. I carved a new flute and learned new songs in new modes.  
  
I guess that when you almost die, your body takes over and pushes all of the unnecessary things out of the way. When I looked for them, I found my seishi powers huddled up in a little ball inside my heart, hidden away from even my little brother. I left them there, cut off from the world, so no one would ever sense that I was anything out of the ordinary--and none of the Seiryuu seishi would be able to track me down.  
  
After a while, I stopped worrying that Nakago would send someone to find me. _They must really believe I’m dead_ , I thought, because if they didn’t, they’d be desperate to find me: they needed me to summon Seiryuu. I missed my brother, but I’d saved the world.  
  
I feel bad about Seiryuu--I kinda figure I’m out of his good graces, since I abandoned the priestess and everything--but I try not to feel guilty for my decision. I think I’m doing the right thing, although it will never make up for what I’ve done.  
  
I pray to Byakko now (which is maybe even more of a betrayal, but that’s what I am right? a traitor). At least Byakko keeps his country safe from civil war, which is more than Seiryuu ever did, although maybe he _would_ if we asked him. Ha! That’s never gonna be one of the top three priorities, as long as Nakago’s in charge and Soi and Tomo follow him around like adoring puppies. And if Seiryuu no miko is anything like Miaka, he’ll have her wrapped around his little finger.  
  
After a few weeks, I didn’t think about these things so much anymore.  
  
The people in this village are friendly, and I... I’ve never been part of something like this before, at least not since I was a little kid. These people work together in the fields; they’re always running back and forth between houses to borrow kitchen utensils and tools; they gather together in the evenings to sing and dance (which I _love_ listening to). This is the peace brought by the protection of Byakko, and Kutou can never, never destroy it.  
  
People like me here. I mean, they like Kaika. Who doesn’t like a boy who is always polite and respectful, who never speaks a cross word or disagrees with anything, who is never annoyed and always compliant, and who is humble and coy?  
  
I know it’s not _me_ that people like--it’s just who I pretend to be. I’ve been pretending so long I don’t even know who _I_ am; all I know is that I’m a liar. If these people got to know _me_ , they wouldn’t like me at all. But I’ve enjoyed getting to know _them_ \--running errands for my “mother”, playing tag with the little girls that live next door, bartering in the market for the vegetables we can’t grow in our garden. (People always give me good deals, ‘cause I’m cute. Heh.)  
  
I love Makan village. So when Dad and Mom were talking about the giant polecat that was bothering the neighbors’ livestock, I said I’d hunt it down. I kept imagining it taking one of the girls next door--they’re about the right size. I know that, even ¬without my seishi powers, I’m good at hunting and killing things, so I was the perfect one to take care of it. There aren’t that many young men in the village.  
  
My parents looked at each other and shrugged.  
  
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” said Dad. “You should go now--it’ll be active at night.”  
  
“If you promise to be careful,” Mom added.  
  
I laughed. “I will, I promise.” (I’m too cavalier with my promises, huh?)  
  
It gets cold in the desert at night, so Mom wrapped me up in this huge old cloak. She’s a little overprotective. Dad gave me a short sword (or a long knife; it was kind of an awkward length) and a lantern.  
  
The polecat left large, obvious tracks, but it was a while before I figured out which were the freshest. It took me about an hour to catch up to it, and by then it was dark. I could see its eyes shining in the lamplight with that eerie glow that animals have. It was ripping pieces off the carcass of a calf that it had stolen and dragged into the foothills.  
  
“Hmph,” I said. “I found you.” I always talk to animals like that.  
  
It took one look at me and skittered away. I gave chase; the frustrating thing led me down pebble-covered paths and through thickets of prickly brush. At last, I emerged from between two boulders to see it crouched, backed up against a rock wall. I had it cornered.  
  
“This is where you’re hiding,” I said. “I finally found you. And now, I’m going to _kill_ you!!”  
  
Don’t laugh! I know, I was being totally overdramatic.  
  
The animal stared back at me and snarled.  
  
“I won’t let you get away,” I said, snarling right back. “You’ll never leave this place alive!!”  
  
It wasn’t going to come any closer to me, and if I moved forward, it’d scoot around me and get away again, so I figured that the best thing was to throw the blade. I knew I could hit it.  
  
I lifted the sword up and shifted my feet to a better position for throwing. The lamplight moved, too, and that’s when I saw her--the dirty girl lying there, flat on her stomach, crying. She must have fallen from the cliffs above. The poor thing probably thought I’d been threatening _her_. I wanted to go to her and see if she was all right, but the polecat was hovering right above her, perfectly willing to take a bite out of her if it had to.  
  
I set the lantern down on a rock. It shone right into the polecat’s eyes. “Get down!!” I commanded the girl, motioning with my free hand.  
  
“Wha--?” She obeyed, and I flung the blade, with a flick of my wrist, right into the head of the animal. Its skull split open, which was _not_ pleasant. It was definitely dead.  
  
“Wha--? Wha--!?” the girl cried. Evidently, she was having difficulty speaking.  
  
I ran to her and put my arms around her, helping her sit up. She whimpered when her ankle got knocked against a rock, so I held her close to me and wrapped her up in the extra folds of my cloak--but I was still looking at the polecat, making sure it wasn’t moving.  
  
“Are you all right!?” I asked, distracted. “It was a giant polecat. It was about to _get_ you.”  
  
And then I pulled her forward, into the lantern’s light, and I looked at her properly. It was Miaka, and I knew her at once (who could forget those ridiculous clothes she has?), but I have lots of practice staying composed. I just did what Kaika would have done.  
  
“Are you okay?” I asked her, letting my concern show. “You need some help?”  
  
I stood and offered her my hand. She looked up at me, terrified and confused. “B--But... Why?”  
  
“Hm?” I blinked at her and smiled as though I were bewildered.  
  
She collapsed into my arms.  
  
“H-Hey... Are you all right!?” I asked.  
  
She didn’t answer, and I started to get a little panicky. It was a long walk back to the village, especially with my arms full of unconscious girl, and I had no idea what had caused her to black out. Nobody loses consciousness because of a twisted ankle. Or even a broken ankle...! Her chi was so weak that I hadn’t even sensed her. Something really bad had obviously happened. Why was she in Sairou? And where were her seishi? If they had been around, I would have known.  
  
Mom and Dad, needless to say, were surprised to see me at the door with a body in my arms. Mom calmed down a little bit when she realized that it wasn’t a corpse.  
  
“Dad, I’m sorry,” I panted. “I left... the sword... on the mountain.”  
  
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll go get it later. Who’s this?”  
  
I shook my head. “She didn’t say. She’s hurt.”  
  
We put her on the bed in my room and moved my things into the common room. I sat up with her for a while, hoping she wake up, but she had a very high fever and was delirious. She moved around a lot--almost thrashed sometimes--and talked, but nothing that was enlightening. I had to pretend not to know her name.  
  
Mom kept saying how pretty she was and hinting that she’d be grateful that I’d saved her life. I almost laughed aloud. Not likely.  
  
She didn’t wake up the next day, and she didn’t wake up the day after that, either. I still had to do chores and run errands, which was frustrating, but it was worse to sit by her bedside and see no change in her. We had a doctor in, and he wrapped the twisted ankle, but he didn’t have an explanation for the fever. He just said that if anyone else got sick, we should quarantine the house. He gave us some medicine, though, made from Bohkyaku, the “oblivion herb”.  
  
It had been a while since I’d had anyone to worry about. I think I must enjoy worrying, with the way I fret about people. Well, I mostly just enjoy taking care of people, especially people who can’t take care of themselves.  
  
I was sitting at my bedroom window, worrying about Miaka, when she began to thrash violently and cry aloud. I went to her at once and bent over her, searching her face. “Hey! Are you all right!?”  
  
Even when people can’t answer, you still sometimes talk to them, you know? But this time, she opened her eyes, and I could see recognition in them.  
  
“Good, you’re finally awake!” I said cheerfully.  
  
She sat up. She looked terrified.  
  
“Don’t worry. You’re in my house in the village of Makan near the Sairou border.”  
  
She didn’t answer, so I went on. “Um, you were out for three days. You must have been pretty darn tired.”  
  
“You’re right,” she said slowly, “I was. So you’re not Suboshi, are you? Why did you...”  
  
My heart went _ka-thunk_ \--when did she meet Suboshi?--but I just smiled and tried to look confused. “Me? I’m...”  
  
“What is it, Kaika!?” Mom’s voice came from the other room. Honestly, can’t I even have a conversation without them pouncing? Are all parents like this?!  
  
“Oh! You’re awake, young lady!” said Dad.  
  
Mom bustled in after him. “Does your leg still hurt?”  
  
“Oh!” Miaka bit her lip. “No, it doesn’t hurt at all.”  
  
“Of course it doesn’t!” I said quickly, more bubbling over than talking. “We gave you a potion with Bohkyaku. The best healer in the village made it. You even forget you were ever in pain! But if you take too much, it can _kill_ you. It’s really potent stuff!”  
  
I winked at her. “Now you should relax and get more rest.”  
  
“Kaika, your flute is so soothing. Play a tune for her,” suggested my mother.  
  
I agreed at once. It was a new tune, but as soon as I began to play, I could tell that Miaka recognized me. She is so easy to read.  
  
Eventually, Mom and Dad left and went back to doing whatever they were doing before. Miaka just lay there and cried.  
  
Oh, you have no idea how much I wanted to do something for her! I wanted to brush her tears away and kiss her until she felt better. I wanted to beg her to tell me why she was so sad. I wanted to know who hurt her so I could find him and tear him into little pieces.  
  
She did go back to sleep, but her sleep this time was more peaceful.  
  
In the morning, my mother decided that Miaka was well enough to sit with us and eat. She went into my room and helped her dress, which in my imagination was kind of like trying to shove a worm into a stalk of bamboo: it’s a lot easier if the worm is helping you. Anyway, it was taking them forever, so I pushed the curtain aside and peeked in ¬cautiously, hoping I could withdraw unnoticed if I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see.  
  
“Mom, we made breakfa--”  
  
I stopped short, my lips still parted. Miaka had been “shoved into” the prettiest dress I’d seen since coming to Makan, and she was _beautiful_. Mom had even done up her hair in matching ribbons. She looked so pure and fragile and sad.  
  
“You look wonderful,” my mother was saying as she slipped on Miaka’s shoes. “The clothes I wore as a girl fit perfectly on you!”  
  
“Umm,” said Miaka. “My school uniform...”  
  
“Oh, it needs some fixing,” said my mother dismissively. “It might take a while because of the odd fabric.” She turned to me and grinned. “What do you think, Kaika?”  
  
She was baiting me, I knew, but it’s easy to have self-confidence when you’re pretending to be someone else, so I just grinned back. To Miaka I said, “Wow! You sure look _cute_!”  
  
She colored a little and looked away.  
  
I laughed and helped her into the other room and into a chair.  
  
“Here, eat up!” Mom pushed a plate over to Miaka. She was way too enthusiastic. It was embarrassing.  
  
“But...” Miaka hesitated, and I started to worry again. Since when did Miaka refuse food?  
  
“Yesterday, you went without,” my mother pressed. “You have to _eat_ to build up strength.”  
  
Miaka considered this. “That’s true, huh?”  
  
My parents smiled and agreed. They hadn’t said two more words before she’d devoured an entire plate of food. I wasn’t worried anymore, but I’d forgotten how _disgusting_ it is when she eats. We couldn’t do anything except stare at her.  
  
“You’re right,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food. “If I don’t eat it’s bad for me, so I’ll just have a bite.”  
  
She reached for another bowl, and Dad said, “On second thought, a starved body should take it a _little_ at a time!”  
  
She stopped. “You think so?”  
  
Everyone was relieved.  
  
Breakfast went normally after that. Mom and Dad tried to make ordinary conversation, and Miaka did her best to answer their questions. It was frustrating to watch--couldn’t they see how upset she was?--but then, maybe the best thing was to just act as though nothing was wrong. What else could be done?  
  
Dad finally landed on the touchy subject. “I heard something about a journey, Miaka? Where are you going once your legs are healed?”  
  
She looked down and didn’t say anything.  
  
Dad grinned and winked at Mom. Oh, no, he was about to say something awful. How could I stop him?  
  
“Of course you could always stay and be Kaika’s _bride_.”  
  
I think I might have spat out my food. “Dad! Mom!” How could they _say_ something like that?! I hate my parents.  
  
“Hey!” said Mom. “You’re the right age! You went to kill the polecat, and after you did, you brought back this fine, young girl. What else would we think?”  
  
“Stop it!” This was so humiliating; I think my whole face must have turned red. “I’m not even _thinking_ of a bride right now!”  
  
And then Miaka started crying.  
  
“Miaka!” Mom turned to her, surprised. I could tell she felt really bad. “I-I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”  
  
“Oh, no. It’s not you,” sniffled Miaka. “ _I’m_ sorry!” She hesitated. “I’m going to my room. Don’t worry, I’d just like to be alone.”  
  
She looked so _sad_.  
  
“Let’s go outside!” I said, standing and offering her a hand.  
  
“D-Don’t bother with me--”  
  
“It’s beautiful out there! Being cooped up in here won’t help you.”  
  
If there’s anything I know about, it’s sadness. And sitting around alone can only help for so long. After a while, you’re just indulging yourself.  
  
“I’ll be your feet,” I offered.  
  
“I don’t want to do any--”  
  
So I just picked her up. She’s tiny.  
  
“Hey!” she shrieked. “Put me down!!”  
  
I laughed at her and turned to face my parents. “Mom, Dad, the lady and I are going for a walk!”  
  
They watched us bemusedly and started saying how good we looked together and other idiotic things that parents say.  
  
Miaka was still flailing around in my arms. “Come on!! Let me down!! I’m not in the _mood_! Amibo--I mean--Kaika!”  
  
I just laughed at her again; the confusion on her face was so eloquent. I’m sure she’d never seen me act this way before.  
  
We were barely out of the house before we were swarmed by people. Can you blame them? Miaka is so adorable, and more importantly, she was _new_. Makan is the perfect size for a village: the size where new things come often enough to keep everybody entertained but rarely enough to make sure we’re never jaded.  
  
There _are_ men in Makan, but you’d never know it if you had to spend the day with me. Seriously, I love being Kaika, but girls just won’t leave me alone. Plus, all of the older women think I’m charming, and I’m always having to make conversation with them on lame topics like how my parents are doing and what a nice day it is.  
  
Well, to be perfectly fair, I sort of encourage them. So I’m not complaining as much as I am bragging, I guess. (Which I suppose I should feel guilty about, but... All I can do is shrug helplessly and laugh. Sorry.)  
  
Like I said, it’s easy to be confident when you’re not yourself.  
  
Li-san from next door was heading toward her home with a basket of peaches. She smiled when she saw me and came over, holding out a piece of fruit toward Miaka. “Young lady! Here, have a peach.”  
  
Miaka was surprised, but she accepted the fruit.  
  
Before I could thank Li-san, Kuei-san and Yuchun noticed us and came over, too. Yuchun had been cooing over Kuei-san’s baby, Bohai. He’s a couple of months old now. Usually, Kuei-san lets me hold him, but this time my arms were full of Miaka, so I just smiled at him, and he smiled back. I like babies because there’s nothing dishonest about them.  
  
“It’s you, Kaika!” Yuchun is a little older than I am, and she always tries to flirt. She’s a lot of fun. “Is _this_ the girl who was attacked by the giant polecat?”  
  
I was more than happy to show Miaka off. I beamed at Yuchun and opened my mouth to introduce her, but Li-san interrupted me.  
  
“Thank goodness your wounds were only minor,” she said, looking Miaka over with that concerned-and-experienced look that only old women have. “Come by and visit! We have some delicious cinnamon tea.”  
  
Poor Miaka didn’t know what to say. I don’t think she’s used to people being so familiar with strangers.  
  
Yuchun, not to be outdone, plopped her hat on Miaka’s head. “How adorable you look in the clothes from our village! But you’re not wearing the traditional hat!”  
  
Miaka had embarrassment written all over her face. “I can’t buy it! I don’t have money!”  
  
All four of us laughed at her.  
  
“They don’t want money,” I explained. “They’re just being friendly.”  
  
After a few more minutes of this sort of happy, pointless, chatter, I managed to extricate us with the excuse that Miaka wasn’t really up to dealing with crowds just yet. I decided not to go through the busy part of town, so we made it to the outskirts of town without having to do much more than wave (well, _nod_ on my part, since my hands were full) at several more people.  
  
At last, I set her down in the shade under a huge tree. It was morning, but it was already getting warm, so I thought that would be the best place for her. She was, after all, recovering from an illness.  
  
I sat down on her right and waited for her to speak, but she didn’t say anything, so I started filling in the silence. “Isn’t this tree amazing? This is my favorite place!”  
  
She didn’t even look at me.  
  
“I’m sorry to drag you out,” I continued, “but I couldn’t just let you lie there. I won’t ask what happened...” (even though I was dying to know) “...but you shouldn’t withdraw like that.”  
  
I sighed, frustrated by her refusal to answer. “People always do this. One bad thing happens, and suddenly everything in the world turns evil to them. Then next thing you know, things really _do_ turn bad. You lose hope. I didn’t want that to happen for _you_ , so...”  
  
“It’s fine for you!” she snapped. “Isn’t it, _Amiboshi_!?”  
  
I stared at her, shocked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her angry like that, before or since.  
  
“You just forget everything!!” She was practically screaming at the top of her lungs. “It’s not _fair_ to lecture me! My companions, people I love... even my best friend! They’re all gone. I’ve had terrible things happen around me and to me, and I _can’t_ forget! Forgetting would be a _relief_!”  
  
She turned to face me, spitting out her words like venom. “And _you_! You get a peaceful village, loving family, and nice neighbors! It’s not _fair_!! And you get to forget what you did to us. The pain that you inflicted on us! You don’t remember _anything_!”  
  
It felt like a slap across my cheek. I was so stunned that I think, for an instant, she might have been able to see on my face what I was actually feeling. It was a matter of course that she believed things like that about me--I’d made it so when I began this particular deceit--but I still wished that I could explain to her how guilty I really feel. I know I don’t deserve it, but I don’t want her to think ill of me, especially if it’s not true.  
  
Forgetting all of these things _would_ be a relief, wouldn’t it?  
  
She turned away, shocked by her own outburst.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said shortly. “I was upset, and I took you for someone else! You’re not Amiboshi. I just have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I can’t even think straight. Don’t let what I said bother you.”  
  
I looked at her for a moment, thinking about all of the suffering in the world, and wondering what could have happened to her to change her so much. Was it Nakago? Or had he made Tomo or Ashitare hurt her? Or... oh no... Suboshi? They couldn’t summon Seiryuu without me, but I had no doubt Nakago would still want to prevent Suzaku from being summoned.  
  
Or maybe her pain wasn’t related to Nakago at all, but just the consequence of this world being the way it is: twisted, perverse, broken.  
  
Why _wouldn’t_ she think ill of me? I’d destroyed her. But it was for the sake of Good, and I wished I could explain that to her. And I wished I could start over in a place where I wouldn’t be forced to become a bad person. Someday, if I ever have another life, I won’t let other people be in charge of my integrity, but it’s too late this time.  
  
I wish I’d been born in Konan--anywhere but in Kutou. I wish I’d been a Suzaku seishi. I wish I could’ve had a childhood where the biggest thing I had to worry about was winning a footrace or having to eat some kind of food I hated. Okay, I know nobody’s life is like that--everybody suffers just for being human, even people who have perfect lives--but seeing Suzaku’s seishi made me almost believe that there are happy people.  
  
I didn’t want to lie to her any more.  
  
So I raised my flute to my lips and began playing a song I’d played for her before. Between phrases, I paused and gave her an earnest, significant look. “It’ll give you strength and courage.”  
  
She studied me. “Thank you,” she said, after a moment. Then she drew her knees up to her chest, careful not to bump her ankle, and began watching the insects that were busy in the dirt.  
  
After a while, she tried to scoot herself up next to the trunk of the tree so she could lean against it. She was having a hard time, so I stopped playing, moved up next to her, and put her head on my shoulder. I figured my shoulder had to be more comfortable than the tree.  
  
She seemed a little uncomfortable, but she gave in, and after a while, she put all of her weight against me and fell asleep. I couldn’t play the flute with her on my shoulder, but touching her was nicer than making music, anyway. I hadn’t had anyone to snuggle with for a long time.  
  
After an hour or so, I took her back home, where I discovered that Miaka getting better did _not_ mean that I didn’t have to do chores.  
  
Dad and I came back to the house at noon to find a burning odor, the vegetables sticking to the bottom of the pot, and Mom missing. Dad set about rescuing lunch and told me to go find her.  
  
She was in my room, kneeling with her hand over her mouth in shock. A bowl lay upturned on the floor; Miaka was twitching and sweating on the bed, her chi weak and erratic. There’s only one thing I know of that causes a reaction like that.  
  
“Miaka!?” The room is too small for me to say that I exactly _ran_ to her bedside, but I got there as fast as I could.  
  
Dad must have heard me cry out; pushing aside the curtain, he entered and stopped, horrified. “You fed her Bohkyaku!?” he demanded.  
  
Mom started to cry.  
  
“How _could_ you!?” He was angry. He never speaks to her like that.  
  
“I wanted her to forget about Kaika’s past!” she cried, almost too hysterical to be understood.  
  
“Oh, Mom...” What could have put an idea like that into her head? I must have been more obvious than I’d thought. Or maybe Miaka said something about it.  
  
“If she made you remember your past, you’d go away and leave us forever!” Mom sobbed. “I didn’t realize that I used too much. I _didn’t_! Can you ever forgive me!?”  
  
“Don’t be foolish, Mom.” I went to her. Of course she hadn’t done it on purpose--how could she think we’d think otherwise? It was so sad and endearing what she’d done, and I realized for the first time how desperately she loved Kaika. (I hate how you only learn important things when somebody’s upset.)  
  
“You two saved me from drowning in the river!” I hugged her, overflowing with pity. “How could I leave you when I owe my life!?”  
  
And with that, I as good as promised to stay with them forever. I hate making promises, because I always break them. I don’t know why I keep doing it. It just seems like sometimes it’s the only way to get people to calm down and shut up.  
  
At any rate, Miaka’s struggling chi had me worried. Mom was completely worthless, and Dad doesn’t know the first thing about sick people. He’s kind, but he’s not gentle at all.  
  
“I’ll take care of Miaka,” I said. “Dad, please go and calm Mom down.”  
  
He nodded and helped Mom out.  
  
As soon as they were gone, I bent over Miaka intently. She was struggling to breathe. Mom must have used a _lot_ of Bohkyaku for it to work so quickly. A dose like that can make a person vomit for hours or cause a heart arrhythmia. The immediate danger, however, was the fever. Miaka was whimpering in pain, and her face was flushed. Touching her skin felt like putting my hand in an oven.  
  
I suddenly realized that I’d never actually had to treat a sick person before. I mean, I’ve taken care of Suboshi lots of times when he was sick, but it mostly consisted of being patient and saying soothing things and breathing chi into him until he got better. I couldn’t do that for Miaka.  
  
I wavered, uncertain of what to try. What did people _do_ for fevers? Obviously, I had to cool her down somehow. I could put her in cold water, I thought, but it would take too long to haul enough water to fill a tub.  
  
While I hesitated, delirium set in, and she began calling half-incoherently for Tamahome.  
  
I think my heart broke for her. (And for myself. My heart broke for myself, too.)  
  
I stroked my thumb over her forehead. It was so hot; my fingers must have felt like ice to her, or they would have if she’d been sensible of her surroundings.  
  
My next action was based on the idea that maybe I could lower her fever by absorbing some of her heat. Before I say anything else, I’d like to make it clear that this decision was only, like, thirty-five percent influenced by me wanting to see her naked.  
  
I unbuttoned my tunic and let it fall to the floor. Ordinarily, I’d fold it or hang it on a chair or something, but that seemed too unfeeling (symbolically, anyway), given the situation. As gently as I could--I didn’t want to cause her any more pain, the little darling--I slipped under the blanket and settled myself over her body, straddling her thighs and finding a place for my nose in the crook of her neck.  
  
I hadn’t expected her to be so _soft_. I don’t just mean that her skin was smooth, but that everything about her was yielding. We fit against each other perfectly, which I marveled at until she cried out in terror at some apparition, and I snapped back into the urgency of the moment.  
  
Trying not to look at her, I untied her robe and pulled it open and down her shoulders. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her tightly against me. Her skin was sickeningly warm. This is a really un-sexy description, but it felt like holding a huge cut of meat that had been just pulled out of boiling water.  
  
It’s probably bad to indulge in thoughts about how attractive a girl is while she’s delirious, but I sort of couldn’t help it. I had one hand tangled up in her hair to keep her head from thrashing about and hurting her neck, and her hair was so thick and curly and perfect for my fingers. Her neck and ear were soft against my cheek. And her... her _breasts_ were pressed against my chest, which was breathtaking, really. Honestly, I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. I decided I could lie like that forever and never ask for a thing more.  
  
I was trying to memorize everything about the way she felt and simultaneously to think about something-- _anything_ \--that wasn’t erotic. I suppose you know how well that worked. I felt as if I was taking advantage of her... but not enough to horrify my brain into stopping its train of thought.  
  
Anyway, the cooling-her-fever-thing that was the purpose of this exploit didn’t seem to be working. I guess, under ordinary circumstances, a reasonable person would decide to discontinue his course of action when it got no results. I wasn’t exactly reasonable at the time, so I decided instead that it just wasn’t working _yet_ , and that I should continue until it did.  
  
I kissed the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder. She stirred and sort of wriggled underneath me, which was _wonderful_. I bit my lip and amended my declaration that I’d be content just lying next to her...  
  
Thank goodness my parents didn’t come in during all of this, because I have no idea what I would have said if they had. Probably, I would have gotten in trouble and been made to listen to a long lecture. Naturally, this did not occur to me at the time. (Remind me never to get involved in something like this again--it’s like my powers of reason _left_.)  
  
Her stirring was getting more and more like struggling, so I opened my eyes and raised myself up on my elbows, searching her face. Suddenly, she let out a horrific scream. “No!!”  
  
My head jerked back from the sheer velocity of the sound, and I almost panicked, suddenly worrying that Mom and Dad would come back to check on us. A second’s worth of listening, however, revealed that Mom was still shrieking hysterically in the next room. I couldn’t understand the words, but Dad was using his “please-be-reasonable” voice.  
  
Miaka’s movements were almost violent. “Let me go,” she cried. “No!!”  
  
I thought at first that she was talking to me, but then I realized that she was still suffering from delusions. I don’t know what she thought was happening, but it must have been very frightening. Her eyes flickered around the room, unseeing, and she shook in my arms. She was beginning to convulse.  
  
I was terrified. I was going to watch her die, and it was my fault. Well, I knew, of course, logically, that it was my mother’s fault, not mine, but I’m a lot smarter and more conscientious than Mom is, so it was my responsibility.  
  
I can offer no explanation for what I did next except that I was affected by whatever you call a feeling like this, and I wasn’t thinking straight. It was certainly a stupid thing to do, and I’m sure it will have consequences far beyond what I see now.  
  
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, gathering my chi. Then I wrapped her up in my arms, pulled her face to mine, and laid my lips on hers. Energy began to move through me and into her. I could feel her cooling against my skin. Her lips were soft and dry, and part of me wanted very much to press harder against them, but I knew better than to entertain thoughts that might interrupt the flow of chi.  
  
As my soul woke from its sleep, I became aware of the world again. I could sense the patterns of energy that moved through the room, through the village, and even through Sairou itself. There were powerful forces in this country whose presences I hadn’t detected before. Three especially healthy sources of chi were glowing about where I knew Sairou’s capitol to be. I could sense Suzaku chi, but it was scattered and feeble--and certainly there were at least two seishi missing. I located Nakago, Tomo, Soi, and a new-yet-familiar chi that must belong to Miboshi. Seiryuu no miko was within a day’s journey, and a strong force urged me to go to her, pulling at my stomach in a way that made me feel sick. Suboshi was with her, and I felt him recognize me; I felt hope overwhelm him and render him speechless... and then I felt less and less of these things as I emptied myself of power.  
  
I began to watch Miaka’s face desperately, praying that I’d be able to give her enough to make her recover. I didn’t want to pass out and fall on her and break her nose or something, but anything less might not be enough. At last, though, she opened her eyes, and I sighed with relief and almost collapsed onto her, tucking my face back into that place where her shoulder met her beautiful neck.  
  
“Amiboshi...?” She was unsurprisingly confused, but I could tell I’d managed to heal her of the poison. “I...”  
  
“Your fever’s down,” I panted. “Thank goodness!”  
  
I lay fully on top of her. My eyelashes made swishing sounds against her hair when I blinked; the sounds were intriguing, and I tried to calm my gasping breaths so I could listen.  
  
“I’m... sorry. I’m out of strength.” I sighed against her neck. “Can I stay here... for a while?”  
  
She didn’t answer. For a long time, there was silence. I’m not heavy enough to squash her--and anyway, I imagine it’s a nice feeling, having a little bit of weight on you; it must make you feel safe--and I think she was too disconcerted to think about her _breasts_ pressing against my chest. (I was thinking about them, though.)  
  
“Let’s stay together...” I murmured into her neck and the pillow. I always start saying stupid, sweet things when I’m tired. “Let’s live here forever!”  
  
“Ah! Amiboshi... I mean Kaika...” She was so cute. “What are you saying!?”  
  
I hefted myself up onto my hands and looked down at her from what must have been an intimidating position, considering she was pinned half-naked beneath me. “As long as you’re here,” I tried to explain, “as long as you’re here, the world can’t _hurt_ you anymore!”  
  
Which is all I’m allowed to want for her... and I _do_ want it for her.  
  
“This is a peaceful village,” I went on. “They’re all nice people. You’ll be safe as long as you’re here. And Mom and Dad would be delighted.”  
  
She looked up at me, eyes full of despair and weariness and all of the things I’ve felt, and I thought for a moment that she was considering. Suddenly she gasped, realizing how exposed she was, and rolled over onto her stomach. She buried her blushing face in the pillow.  
  
Her modesty was the most endearing thing about her right then, and I couldn’t do anything for a minute but stare, adoringly, at the bare skin of her back.  
  
“Your skin is perfect,” I murmured. “But it’s on the _inside_ that you’re all torn up.” And I kissed her left shoulder blade.  
  
That was a dumb, dumb, _dumb_ thing for me to do. She freaked out and started crying. She was honestly terrified, and then I began to have strong suspicions about what had happened to her, because there aren’t many things that make a person scream in terror when she’s shown a bit of affection.  
  
“S-S-Stop!” She couldn’t even speak through her tears. “O-Or I’ll... I’ll bite off my nose and bleed to death!!”  
  
That was such a ridiculous thing to say, I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. “Isn’t the old threat, ‘I’ll bite off my _tongue_ ‘?”  
  
She looked confused by my laughter and profoundly uncomfortable with the position she was in, so my amusement turned to pity. She was hurt too badly for me to heal, even though I wished I could; she was destroyed to the point of not caring whether she ever recovered. When that happens to a person, she either dies or goes on suffering for a long time, and if she eventually gets better, she’s changed. I saw her fear, and I understood that she didn’t want me.  
  
I sat up and began dressing. “Your fever’s down,” I said quietly. “Take another day to rest up. Also, take the day to think about what I said.”  
  
And then I left.  
  
I had to get away before I broke into pieces in front of my parents. So, gritting my teeth, I pasted on a chipper smile and told them that Miaka’s fever had broken and that I was going for a walk. Then I fled to the bank of the river, slid between two boulders, and wept.  
  
I woke up much later, not having intended to fall asleep. I still felt drained, but at least in control of myself again. I had a headache, and I knew I’d screwed up. Maybe Suboshi would be smart enough not to say anything about Nakago, and Miaka and I would still be okay... but probably not.  
  
I hid my chi, which was starting to rebuild itself, and considered the situation. This called for planning. I had to arrange things so that Miaka would stay here, where she was safe; I had to make sure that neither god could be summoned, so that there wouldn’t be a war.  
  
Miaka wasn’t up to making serious decisions, but that could work to my advantage. She’d always been easy to bully, so I figured that if I fixed everything ahead of time so all she’d have to do is concede, and then applied a little bit of pressure, she’d cave.  
  
When I felt comfortable with my plan, I went back to the house. It wasn’t suppertime yet, which was lucky, because if I’d missed a meal, Mom would have panicked. But it was unlucky, too, because I had to sit through supper making conversation and pretending that nothing was wrong.  
  
The next morning, everything in the universe conspired to steal my free time. Dad’s scythe broke, and I had to repair it. One of our oxen hurt its foot. Everything took twice as long as usual.  
  
Mom brought us lunch out in the field. She said Miaka was feeling better. Dad was suffering in the heat, though, so I felt like I should offer to finish everything up myself.  
  
By the time I washed up and mixed up the Bohkyaku solution--this time in the _correct_ proportions--it was late afternoon.  
  
I pushed aside the curtain and found Miaka sitting on my bed, staring at a scrap of paper. Her old clothes (those awkward, unflattering ones from her old world) were folded up in her lap. Mom must have finished mending them.  
  
“Miaka...”  
  
She looked up.  
  
“How do you feel?” I offered her the bowl I was holding. “Here.”  
  
She stared at it, not saying anything, so I said, “It’s Bohkyaku. Take a sip, and you’ll forget everything.”  
  
She accepted the bowl, but she just held it in her hands and stared at it.  
  
That wouldn’t do. All she had to do was _drink_ it, and everything would be _fine_.  
  
It seems like all the people I care about are too dumb to know what’s good for them. If everyone would just listen to me and do what I say, things would work out so much better--but it’s no good explaining this to other people. They don’t understand.  
  
I sat next to her on the bed, trying to find the magic phrase that would convince her. “While you drink, concentrate and say, ‘I want to forget everything.’ And you won’t suffer anymore! It’s _best_ for you! Give it a try.”  
  
She looked at the bowl, wavering. Then she lifted it to her lips and closed her eyes, as if she were steeling her resolve. Suddenly, she raised the bowl up as high as she could reach and dashed it on the floor. It shattered. Shards of china scattered over the floor, and the potion splashed. Somehow, her feet and legs avoided being cut by the sharp edges: I checked to make sure.  
  
I couldn’t believe it. She didn’t seem like she had it in her to be so decisive. And... my plans!  
  
“Why?” I was able to ask finally. “Don’t you _want_ your suffering to end?” That’s what she had said the day before, after all.  
  
She started crying. “I... I _can’t_ forget! They’re people who _love_ me!! They’ve saved my _life_!! I care for them! I can’t allow myself to forget them!!”  
  
She set her chin and looked at me hard, like she was _daring_ me to oppose her. I think... I think that maybe she’s a lot more grown-up than I gave her credit for.  
  
I set my own chin and looked at the far wall. It’s sick how life works. With this new respect for her, my admiration for her grew, too. I really wished... I mean that it’s so lonely here and I... But the most important thing is that she knows best what would make her happy, and if I care for her, I will _help_ her be happy in whatever way she wants. Still, it was hard not to be a little bitter.  
  
“Is one of them Tamahome?” I asked, still looking steadily at the wall. “What about him? Didn’t you promise to never leave him?”  
  
Miaka perked up into a trembling mess of animation. “What--What did you just say!? D-Do you...”  
  
“Yes,” I said tiredly. “I remember everything. I am a Seiryuu celestial warrior. Your enemy.”  
  
She reached out to me, tugging on my sleeve with a tentative hand. “Why!? Why did you fake amnesia!?”  
  
I sighed, leaning forward and looking at the floor between my feet. This was a long speech, because it could only be explained if I started at the beginning, but at least I knew what I was going to say--I’d been thinking it over and over.  
  
“I fell into the river on purpose,” I said. “I wanted to die.”  
  
This was true. Now for the say-everything-fast-and-calm-so-I-don’t-s tart-crying part.  
  
“When I became a spy posing as Chiriko and living as a Suzaku warrior,” I continued, “I felt that it was a mistake. Unlike Konan, my homeland Kutou is in a state of constant ¬civil strife. My brother Suboshi and I were orphans. When her eminence Yui appeared from the other world, I firmly believed that once Seiryuu was summoned, Kutou would find peace. Nakago insisted that your summoning of Suzaku would prevent that peace.”  
  
I looked at her to see if she was following. She nodded to indicate that she understood, so I went on.  
  
“But then I realized that Kutou’s intentions were to use Seiryuu to dominate not only Konan, but also Sairou and Hokkan as well. If that were true, the war would kill countless numbers of people. I didn’t know what to believe in anymore. As a Seiryuu warrior, I had no choice but to fight you.”  
  
I looked at her appealingly, but her eyes showed nothing but sympathy--which I should have expected. She’s genuinely _that_ nice.  
  
“As I fell into the river,” I said slowly, “I thought that my death would prevent the summoning of Seiryuu. I was just fed up with fighting.”  
  
I slammed my fist down on the bed. “War is _pointless_!! Miaka, you think so, too, right!? _Then stay here!_ We won’t have to fight anymore!!”  
  
 _This_ was what _I_ wanted--the closest thing to the “real” me as I could find. I know I lie, I know I deceive people, but _this_ was real, and passionate, and desperate. And, of course (because this is the way life works for me and all other people born under inauspicious stars), it meant _nothing_.  
  
“There is a way to summon Suzaku and Seiryuu, even without all the celestial warriors present,” said Miaka, slowly and quietly.  
  
“What!?”  
  
I stared at her. _So I’ve just been wasting time here._  
  
“I have to go!” she said abruptly.  
  
“Go!? Where?”  
  
“To wherever Nakago is. I have to rescue Yui!”  
  
I made a face at her. She was crazy. That was the worst idea in the world.  
  
“I’m changing my clothes so turn away,” she commanded. I obeyed, too stunned to do anything else.  
  
“No, I’ve got a better idea!” I could hear the excitement and determination in her voice. “I’ll have Yui summon Seiryuu!”  
  
Okay, _that_ was the worst idea in the world.  
  
“What!?” I almost squeaked.  
  
“I can’t summon Suzaku anymore,” she explained. My head jerked up, but she hadn’t given me permission to look at her yet. If she meant what she was saying, then the worst thing possible had happened, and...  
  
She was still chattering, almost as if she could make things true just by saying them as quickly as possible. “But Seiryuu can be summoned, right!? If Yui realized how Nakago was deceiving her, she’d understand! After that she’d never listen to Nakago or the Kutou rulers.”  
  
I don’t know what deception in particular Miaka was talking about (although I’d cut off my own left hand if Nakago didn’t find _some_ way to lie to Seiryuu no miko), but I understood enough about the situation to know that it wouldn’t work out the way Miaka thought it would. I don’t think Miaka has any concept of how manipulative Nakago can be, and from what I’ve been told about Yui... Well, she doesn’t sound like she has a strong will.  
  
There was no sense in trying to tell this to Miaka, though. She was perfectly determined.  
  
“You may be right about that,” I said slowly, trying to think on my feet, “but you’re going alone? Right into the enemy’s camp? Aren’t you afraid?”  
  
 _I_ had been afraid to go alone into the enemy’s camp.  
  
She stood, and I could hear the fabric of her skirt rustling as she pulled it on. “A long time ago,” she said, “somebody told me the characters for ‘battle’ and ‘running away’ differ by only a few lines, and yet their meanings are exactly opposite.”  
  
I nodded; this was true.  
  
Then she said, “If you run away because you ‘can’t do it’ or because you think something’s ‘impossible’, then you’ll become a coward as an adult. Sure, I’m afraid! I’d love to run! But becoming a coward isn’t in my plans! So I won’t _run_. I’ll _battle_ it through!”  
  
She moved into my line of sight, sparkling with joy and resolution. And she said, “Don’t worry. You don’t have to leave here. I’ll go alone! My ankle seems fine, too.”  
 _  
You don’t have to leave here._ Which meant, _I’m not a coward, but you are, Amiboshi._ And she was right. I _am_ a coward. It was a shock to realize this, because I’ve always thought of myself as being brave and responsible and grown-up, but... No, she was definitely right. I knew what was right and what was wrong, but I was too afraid to face the consequences of right action, so _I ran away_. And all this time, I’ve been _hiding_.  
  
I don’t want to do this anymore.  
  
“Miaka, don’t go this very instant,” I said. “Let’s make some kind of plan. You don’t know these people as well as I do--I can help you.”  
  
She shook her head. “I need to leave as soon as possible. I have to find Yui, no matter what!”  
  
She was having a hard time tying up her hair, so I held one of her ribbons while she twisted her curls into a high ponytail.  
  
And suddenly, there was shouting all around us, the whirring of arrows through the air, the crackle of burning thatch: all sounds I know the way a baby knows its mother’s voice.  
  
Miaka looked at me, horrified, and stupidly ran outside.  
  
I found her standing in the doorway, screaming. “Your parents!”  
  
“Miaka...” I tried to calm her down.  
  
“Amiboshi, your mother and father! What could have--”  
  
And I realized what she was trying to say. I pushed past her. There, on the doorstep, were Dad and Mom. There was blood gushing from a wound in my father’s shoulder and Mom was lying, lifeless, in his arms.  
  
They weren’t the only ones, either. The village was burning. Horses were screaming, children were crying... It was utter chaos. I could hear the hoof-beats of the soldiers’ horses, but I couldn’t see them through the smoke.  
  
“Wh-Why!?” Miaka was wailing.  
  
I couldn’t help but feel that I was the one who ought to be panicking. After all, it was my fault. If I hadn’t been distracted, if I’d kept even a tiny bit of my chi aware of the world around me, this couldn’t have happened.  
  
“Hurry! Get them inside!” Miaka was giving a lot of orders and not doing anything. “Amiboshi!”  
  
I helped Dad sit up, trying not to bump the arrow in his arm. I must have looked worried, because he said, “It’s not that bad. They got my arm, and your mother’s only fainted.”  
  
Then I was relieved, but for a moment... For a moment, it was too much like something I’ve seen before, and I felt sick and angry.  
  
I gently broke off the arrow where it entered the wound. As I’d thought, the fletching was the familiar color and shape of the Imperial Army of Kutou.  
  
“This is a Kutou arrow!” I hissed to Miaka. “So they _did_ find me!”  
  
“What?” Apparently, she didn’t understand how these things worked (not a surprise).  
  
“I used my chi to ease your fever,” I explained patiently. “Nakago must have detected it and found me.”  
  
I was _pissed off_. Punishing me is one thing, but all of these other people, too? I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less from the incredible Nakago. Well, _fine then_. It was too damn late to be hiding my chi anymore, so I let it flare back into life. I stalked back into the house to get a cup of water for my father.  
  
When I came back, Miaka was surveying the village, indignant. “In any case, this is too much!! Attacking innocent villagers like this...”  
  
While I handed the cup to Dad, she took a step forward. I knew what she was doing. (I think that’s why I like her so much. She always _thinks_ she can do things, and she gives her best. Even though she mostly fails. How adorable!)  
  
“Miaka, wait! You can’t go out there!”  
  
“I’m going!” she retorted. “Nakago needs a good punching out!!”  
  
I agreed, but she certainly wasn’t the best person to do that. I doubt she even knows how to punch someone.  
  
Before she could take another step, a soldier on a horse materialized out of the smoke. A mask covered his face, and he held a battle-axe. He was eerily serene in the confusion around him. Even his horse was peculiarly calm.  
  
My eyes narrowed. Have I mentioned how much I hate soldiers?  
  
“So you are here, Suzaku no Miko!” He laughed, looking down at Miaka’s surprised little face. “You will come with me!”  
  
They weren’t here for me. They were here for her. But they found her because of me. Damn it, am I that predictable? How did Nakago know that the only person I’d give myself up for would be her?  
  
I moved in front of her. “Step back, Miaka!” I said firmly. “And don’t watch this!”  
  
I squeezed my eyes shut and began to play my flute. When the soldier started to scream, half of me wondered why I didn’t feel sorry for him. The other half of me was delighting in his suffering. It wasn’t the tiniest fraction of what he deserved--of what we all deserve--because we’re all evil in Kutou. We’re all made evil by our own country and by our own countrymen.  
  
Then came that terrifying little voice inside me that grins and whispers, “Burst!!”  
  
There was a final agonized cry, and the man’s eardrums exploded. He fell to the ground, which was already stained by the blood of Makan villagers, and his horse reared and trampled him before it ran away.  
  
Weapon still at the ready, I glanced over my right shoulder to see if Miaka was okay. She was cowering behind me, watching me uneasily. And I don’t blame her; _I’m_ afraid of me when I get like that.  
  
“Don’t worry,” I said, all business. “The sound took out one man hiding around the corner and two others near the tree.”  
  
 _And at least another ten or fifteen_ , I added silently. But she wouldn’t come across those corpses, and it was better for her not to know.  
  
And then...  
  
“I feel someone’s chi.” I looked at her with alarm. “It’s huge!”  
  
“Amiboshi?” She clung to me.  
  
“Is this...” I tried to recognize it; it was Seiryuu chi, and one I knew, but it had grown since I’d felt it last, and... “Tomo!?”  
  
Once I thought of Tomo, I knew that’s who it was. He’s always impressed me, because he’s such a great artist. He always wants things to be beautiful and comfortable, but he also always get things done. I respect that about him, even though he’s hard to get along with sometimes. I didn’t want to fight him, so I thought I’d just help Miaka escape from him, but...  
  
There was another chi there with him. In fact, I could feel all sorts of chi swirling around in the Sairou desert. Everyone was so _close_. But Tomo had some sort of opponent, someone wounded, and it was a chi I recognized.  
  
“Tamahome!!”  
  
Even if Miaka didn’t love him, I still owed him for not killing me when I deserved it. I turned to face her fully. “Miaka, Tamahome’s in trouble! He’s very close by!” I pointed so she could see the direction.  
  
She looked down, her eyes welling up with tears just from hearing his name. “No. I can’t go to him.”  
  
“Wh-why!?” She can go on a suicide mission across country to rescue Yui, but she won’t go to the love of her life?  
  
“I can’t tell you,” she said. “But I have no right to be near him.”  
  
I grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her gently, forcing her to look at my face. “That doesn’t make sense!” I said firmly. “You two were in _love_!! You _have_ to be together!!”  
  
Maybe there’s no such thing as true love for people like me. But there _has to be_ for some people. Because, if Miaka and Tamahome can’t be together, then love is nothing but a lie or a trap. And that _can’t_ be true. I don’t _want_ that to be true. I need to believe that they’re going to be happy.  
  
“I’ll bring him, okay? You _wait_ for us here, okay?” I looked sternly at her until she nodded.  
  
“Kaika...” My father’s voice came from behind me.  
  
I turned around. “Dad!”  
  
“If you go,” he said, “take this Bohkyaku with you. I’m certain it will help.” He smiled. “Your mother and I will be fine.”  
  
“Dad...” He’d heard what I’d said. I was leaving, just like Mom was afraid I would. It must have stung him, the idea of losing his son again. “Thank you!” I said earnestly, taking the vial.  
 _  
I will come back._  
  
Miaka was still standing dumbfounded, as if the words she’d said so boldly earlier--the ones about battling evil instead of running from it--meant nothing to her. No matter; it didn’t make them any less true. She’ll see the truth of her own words soon enough, when she’s a little more healed.  
  
And it will happen; I believe this. Because for her, anything is possible, and to her, all good things will come.  
  
“You wait here, Miaka!” I commanded. “I’ll bring Tamahome back! I can’t think of you without him!”  
  
And I set off running, this time toward my fate instead of away from it.  
  
This is my redemption.


End file.
